Miss Darcy's Companion: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Joana Starnes

  “I imagine you are shocked,” Bingley began without preamble as soon as the door was closed behind them.

  “Why should I be?” his friend drawled. “If I had a shilling for every time a friend showed up married on my doorstep– ”

  “Then you would have a shilling,” Bingley laughed and threw himself into a chair. “Darcy, she is an angel. The sweetest and most beautiful angel I have ever beheld!”

  “I suppose this is the wrong time for me to mention that you said the same, word for word, of Miss Clarissa Hargrave, Miss Lewis, the second Miss Harcourt and half a dozen other Misses whose names elude me at the moment.”

  “There is no right time to bring that up. In fact, I beg you would not share the full history of my philandering with my wife, Darcy. ‘Tis all in the past – gone – forgotten. No one compares to her. But you will soon see that for yourself.”

  Darcy approached with the two glasses he had filled, offered one and raised the other.

  “To your felicity in marriage, my friend. May it be as long-lasting as your engagement was brief,” he smiled, not unkindly.

  Bingley was all too pleased to drink to that, then set his glass down on the nearest table.

  “I thank you. I am assured of it.”

  For his part, Darcy suppressed the urge to shake his head in exasperation. What was done was done, and it was his friend’s life after all, not his. There was nothing to be gained from voicing reservations now, it was too late. All he could do was support Bingley in his choice. And, truth be told, a part of him was rather glad to have been spared a most uncomfortable conversation.

  “Would you care to explain the haste?” he casually asked, and Bingley huffed.

  “Caroline, of course. She would not cease objecting to everything to do with Jane. In the end I could not listen to another word. Once I gathered the courage to propose and the dearest girl had the kindness to accept me, I rode to town for a special licence. Thank goodness for small mercies, they were out of mourning so once I procured it we could be married in Longbourn Church within a se’nnight. I wished to put an end to Caroline’s ridiculous crusade before she had a chance to enlist the help of others and poison my uncles and aunts in Scarborough against my betrothed as she had succeeded in poisoning Louisa. We set off to see my relations in the north the day after the wedding. This is one of the reasons we are here. The other, of course, is to share my happiness with you.”

  Darcy clapped him affectionately on the shoulder, and Bingley resumed.

  “It was not an easy task to carry my point as regards speedy nuptials, but thankfully my mother-in-law was quick to see that a bird in hand was worth two in the bush, so she was of great assistance.”

  Darcy grimaced, wondering if those had been the lady’s very own words.

  “What is she like?” he could not stop himself from asking.

  “You would think she talks too much and rather too loudly,” Bingley replied with an easy smile, unwittingly confirming Darcy’s worst expectations, before he continued in a very Bingleyesque manner, “but I find I cannot censure her, after everything she has been through.”

  A detailed account of the Bennets and their misfortunes followed, and Darcy held his peace, although he was familiar with it already from Miss Bennet and, worse still, from Miss Bingley’s letter. But he was unwilling to pain his friend with any disclosures regarding the said missive, so he let him speak at leisure without interruption. He slowly made his way to one of the windows as he listened, his gaze idly drifting over the formal gardens until some movement caught his eye, beyond the topiary: Miss Bennet and her sister strolling along, chatting with great animation and stopping every now and then to gesture for added emphasis or share a warm embrace.

  “They are very close,” Bingley suddenly spoke at his shoulder, having joined him without notice. “Jane holds her sister in the deepest affection. I believe that, to some extent, her eagerness to see Miss Elizabeth worked to my advantage. Jane was most reluctant to marry without her dearest sister at her side, but was quick to see that in doing so she might see her sooner. It would have taken several weeks at least to make arrangements for Miss Elizabeth’s arrival into Hertfordshire, whereas we could be at Pemberley within days of our marriage. Unless of course we descended upon you in corpore and asked your vicar to marry us in Kympton Church,” he affectionately teased, then clapped his friend’s shoulder. “Fear not, Darcy, I have too great an affection for you, so I have not considered this alternative for longer than a moment,” he quipped, then sobered. “I must thank you for a great many things. Your longstanding friendship for one, and your support as well. I hope I still have it. And also for appeasing Jane’s concerns as regards her sister. She was dreadfully distressed by the thought of Miss Elizabeth making her own way into the world and she suspected that she was not happy in Lady Stretton’s household. It was a great relief for her to receive bright accounts from Pemberley. You and Miss Darcy have made Miss Bennet very happy, and I thank you for it. Which makes my next rather too difficult to say, but I would like to offer Miss Elizabeth a home with us eventually. She might wish to revert to her former way of life rather than continue as a paid companion, and I know Jane would be thrilled to have her in our home. I know that, of all my acquaintances, you are the most likely to treat her with respect and kindness, but I would not wish for any of my kin to work for a living unless they would be unhappy otherwise. But we can speak of this later. We are to spend a month or so touring the north and visiting my relations. We will make our way towards Netherfield some time after Christmas. Hopefully by then Miss Elizabeth might decide if she would like to travel south with us. If she does, then perhaps you and Miss Georgiana would consider seeking another lady’s companion. Until you find a suitable replacement, you are most welcome to come and stay with us at Netherfield, so that your sister is not so abruptly deprived of Miss Elizabeth’s society. I know that Jane would be very glad of the opportunity to become better acquainted with your sister and, with any luck, between yourselves, you and Miss Bennet might help keep Caroline at bay,” he laughed.

  “Is she to live with you still?” Darcy asked in some surprise. He would not have expected such forbearance, not even from his too tolerant friend. To his mild satisfaction, the benign features hardened.

  “She is not. She will make a home with Hurts and Louisa. And she will not be welcomed at Netherfield until she makes a number of long-overdue apologies and pays off all her arrears of civility to Jane. And,” Bingley grimaced, “knowing her, she will seek to at least give that impression, while the purse strings are firmly in my grasp”.

  Darcy very nearly stared. The married state was already proving of some benefit to Bingley, if it had given him the confidence to stand up to his domineering sister. For many years his friend had been treated as a child in leading strings by his two much older siblings – the unmarried one the most wilful and vocal of the two – and it was high time for that state of affairs to alter. It would do Bingley a world of good to finally assert his independence. And Darcy could not help owning that it might be a great deal more enjoyable for his friends, himself included, to visit him once Miss Bingley no longer ruled over his household. Having Miss Bennet’s sister as the lady of the house might be a welcome change indeed.

  * * * *

  Darcy’s opinion of Mrs Bingley, cautiously favourable already by comparison to the previous mistress of Netherfield, had no reason to diminish over the course of the couple’s visit. She was very mild and sweet, and unmistakably attached to her new husband. Her beautiful features lit up whenever he approached her, Darcy could not fail to notice, and when Bingley was detained in conversation with the others, her clear blue eyes followed him everywhere he went.

  Experience had taught him that such displays of interest and affection were often feigned, but in this lady’s case what reason might she have had to feign them? She had already gained her place as Bingley’s wife and there was no further need to cajole or lure him. Nor was there any n
eed for her to impress the other members of the party with signs of affection. Why should she feel inclined to put on a show for her dearest sister’s benefit, for his or Georgiana’s?

  That Bingley was head over heels in love and blissfully happy was equally plain to see. A very cheerful man at all times, these days his bright disposition was almost incandescent, and he would use every opportunity to show his devotion to his wife or, when she was absent, to extol her virtues.

  That evening was no exception. The ladies had retired to the music room after dinner, leaving them to their brandy and port – in effect leaving Darcy as the sole listener to yet another of Bingley’s besotted monologues.

  “So, Darcy, when will you see sense and follow my example?” his friend asked, once his panegyric was mercifully concluded. “Whoever has inspired your proverbial reticence for the married state has done you a great disservice, my friend. I, for one, heartily recommend it.”

  “Do you indeed? I had my doubts watching you over the last few days, but I thank you for clearing that issue,” Darcy affectionately teased and reached for his brandy.

  Bingley laughed and drained his glass.

  “I suppose other people’s happiness can be rather tedious. All I can say is that you should try it for yourself. And I beseech you, do yourself a favour and marry for affection. Well, if you have tired of my exhortations, I say we rejoin the ladies,” he suggested, and Darcy saw no reason to object.

  They found them listening to Georgiana playing a very lively tune which took Bingley to his wife’s side directly, as though he needed more inducement. He turned to lightly cast over his shoulder:

  “Pray oblige me, Darcy. I cannot waste this tempting opportunity of dancing to The Barley Mow.”

  “This is unprecedented, and irregular as well. Are you seriously asking me to stand up with you?” Darcy drawled, but his friend was undaunted.

  “Insufferable wretch,” he retorted pleasantly. “Need I spell it out that I was hoping you would partner Miss Bennet? We could use another couple and besides I do not see why you should be allowed to sit down and be entertained by other people’s antics,” Bingley added as he led his smilingly compliant wife to the floor.

  Uncommonly compliant in his turn, at least to those who knew him well, Darcy walked to the lady’s sister.

  “Would you do me this honour, Miss Bennet? I know Bingley of old and I can safely say that dissuading him from dancing is rarely an option, so I imagine we might have to join him.”

  Her smile was rather perfunctory, but she stood.

  “‘Tis no hardship for me, Sir. I dearly love to dance.”

  “Which is more than I can say for Darcy,” his friend laughed. “As a habit he avoids it like the plague, so I suppose I should thank him for the condescension.”

  “Should you not save your breath for the dance? I believe ‘tis rather sprightly,” the other retorted like for like, and offered his hand to his companion.

  Thin warm fingers curled around his own, and he idly registered the novel sensation as they took their place. Of course. Dancing without gloves was as singular as impromptu romps in Pemberley’s music room after dinner. He had never danced at Pemberley in seven years, and never – there or elsewhere – at anything other than a formal ball. He had never danced with a young woman from his household either, nor with a partner who would look at the pianoforte, the floor, the other couple, anywhere in the room but him. Had they not told her, when she was taught to dance, that one was supposed to train one’s eyes on one’s partner? Or was that still an after-effect of Miss Bingley’s poison?

  In all other respects the dancing master or whoever might have taught her had done the office well. She easily caught the steps, or perhaps she was more familiar with them than he, and she moved with unaffected ease, her dancing light and pleasing. Very graceful too, even more than her sister’s, so she need not blush for her performance. Yet blush she did, her rosy glow deepening into scarlet. On second thought, exertion might have been to blame. After all, it was a very sprightly dance indeed.

  Without warning, the tempo increased still further when, arms linked behind the lady’s back and the other poised above their heads to form a wide circle between them, the couples were expected to whirl around in five fast spins, stop and clap the time, then repeat the figure after an exchange of partners.

  They duly whirled and stopped to clap the time – only to see that, in careless disregard for the established pattern of the dance, Bingley omitted or disdained to relinquish his wife to Darcy. They were still spinning, faster and faster still, one arm around each other’s waist, the other raised to frame their faces. Eye to eye. Seemingly oblivious of the entire world around them.

  Darcy’s momentary confusion gave way to an understanding smile. Across from him, Miss Bennet’s consciousness melted into a matching one, and they shared a light shrug and a glance of amused affection – for her sister, for his friend – before meeting in the middle for the last figure of the dance.

  * * * *

  The forthcoming days brought other amusements. Walks through the grounds, a few trips to Lambton, even archery one day when the weather was particularly fine, and often in the mornings the gentlemen would go out to shoot.

  The evenings were spent in easy companionship. It could not be otherwise when Bingley was of the party, and Darcy was glad to note that his reservations about having Mrs Bingley for a guest while her sister was a paid companion had been for naught. Whether or not this would still hold true when they would be in larger company, with many more of his peers present, was difficult to tell. But for now Mrs Bingley’s addition was actually improving matters, for it was seemingly restoring Miss Bennet to her cheerful self.

  ‘Nay, not that,’ Darcy amended. She had never wanted cheer. Yet she was more at ease, more vivacious, as though the Bingleys – a connection between them all – were bridging the natural distance between her and the family she served.

  It pleased him that, at least in their presence, her deep reserve around him appeared to have softened and the civil deference had been replaced by something akin to her former open manner. If anything, it would make for an easier transition to the future when, inevitably, she would quit his household to live with her sister and they would meet on a different, almost equal footing.

  The matter was tentatively discussed over dinner a few evenings later and, to his satisfaction and Georgiana’s palpable relief, Miss Bennet informed them that she was in no great haste to leave while she was still needed.

  “I am very happy here,” she smiled warmly at his sister, then her countenance lost some of its animation as she continued. “It cannot be so very long until you would have a companion in the mistress of this house, or you would require someone a great deal more experienced than I to guide you through the maze of social engagements. But until then, if you would have me, I would very much like us to remain just as we are.”

  Georgiana voiced her unconcealed delight at the intelligence but predictably Mrs Bingley did not share the sentiment.

  “Are you quite certain, Lizzy? I hope I need not tell you how happy you would make me if you changed your mind.”

  At that, Bingley spoke up to warmly second her, but Miss Bennet leaned to press her sister’s hand.

  “You know you cannot escape it, dearest Jane,” she teased. “Before long I shall be a fixture in your home, to teach your daughters to play their instruments very ill indeed. But until then I hope you will enjoy your marital bliss at leisure. Besides, you must have more than enough sisters in your care.”

  “‘Tis not the same though, you must see that. They are not you,” Mrs Bingley affectionately emphasised. “And they would not live with us, not for a long time yet, if ever. Mamma has welcomed the suggestion of having her own home, a few doors down from our Aunt Phillips, which my dear husband was so kind to offer.”

  ‘Good for him,’ Darcy privately cheered. While his impecunious relations would likely be a burden on his purse, at least
they would not be a burden in his home, nor impose themselves upon the rest of Bingley’s family and friends, himself included, when they were to visit. But perhaps Miss Bingley’s vitriolic letter was nothing but malicious exaggeration in Mrs Bennet’s case, just as it was with regard to her two eldest daughters. Could she have raised such charming young ladies if she was a low and vulgar sort?

  Despite Mrs Bingley’s quiet entreaties, Miss Bennet remained unwilling to alter her decision of continuing as Georgiana’s companion. The vocal expressions of delight were left to his sister, but Darcy privately acknowledged himself equally gratified, and not just because he had been spared the trouble of finding a replacement. Truth be told, he was just as disinclined as Georgiana to trade Miss Bennet’s pleasing company for a dour Mrs Younge or someone of her ilk.

  Despite Mrs Bingley’s disappointment, dinner finished on a happy note. There was no dancing in the music room – that particular disport was not repeated after the first night – but they played at cards instead, until the late hour claimed its dues and the ladies declared their readiness to retire. As for Bingley, he agreed to join his friend for a glass of port as soon as he had lit their candles so, bidding them good night, Darcy left him to the task and ambled to his study.

  It was prepared for them – the fire lit, the decanters full – and, having poured himself a drink, Darcy walked up to his desk. Some letters of business were stacked into a neat pile in a corner and he selected and unfolded the uppermost, then leaning back, glass in one hand and the letter in the other, he set about to peruse it while he waited. The reply was not particularly urgent and he would not have the time to write it anyway until Bingley’s reappearance, but he reached for pen and paper nonetheless, to jot down a few salient points lest he should forget to touch upon them later.

  By the time his glass was empty and the aide-mémoire might as well have been the final letter, it occurred to him that Bingley had changed his mind about joining him after all. He drew a fresh sheet, penned the letter in full, then folded and sealed it before standing up to cover the fire and put out the candles.