Pride & Prejudice Villains Revisited – Redeemed – Reimagined: A Collection of Six Pride and Prejudice Variation Short Stories

by Renata McMann

  Caroline returned her smile, though her own happiness sprang from the success of her plan. Louisa was convinced, and Caroline had nothing to fear. Mr. Darcy was as near to proposing to her as he was to asking a fish to be his bride.

  “I am, however, concerned about Charles,” Louisa said, her look of pleasure vanishing.

  “And Miss Bennet?” There was no mistaking the mutual attraction at the dance. Everyone commented on it and assumed it was only a matter of time before the couple became engaged. Caroline wasn’t as sure. That Jane cared for her brother seemed clear. It was also clear that Charles returned Miss Bennet’s affection. At least, he did right now. Caroline was familiar with how fickle her brother’s heart was. In fact, she was fond enough of Miss Bennet that she was considering warning Jane, to save her heartache.

  “Yes. Her family is impossible. I would hate to be connected to that mother and those sisters.”

  Caroline nodded. She didn’t find the youngest two as impossible as her sister did, but they were in sore need of guidance. Mrs. Bennet was, in truth, a terrible nuisance. It saddened Caroline to think that her sister would attempt to deny Charles’ happiness based on women who would be seldom seen, especially as she knew it actually had so little to do with her behavior. If Mrs. Bennet were as well off and titled as, say, Mr. Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine, Louisa would label her eccentric and welcome Jane with open arms. “They are rather a trial,” she elected to say, hoping that would satisfy her sister.

  “Speaking of a trial, I had to let Robert go.”

  Caroline was glad Louisa was looking at her breakfast, because she couldn’t school her expression into casual unconcern. What had happened? Where would Robert go? She managed to keep her voice calm as she asked, “Why?”

  “The butler caught him reading one of Mr. Hurst’s books.”

  “I gave him permission,” Caroline said.

  “Why in heavens would you do that?” Louisa asked, looking up at her with a frown. “And how did he come to ask you?”

  Caroline worked to keep her face from flushing, but her heart beat frantically in her breast. How much should she tell? A partial truth was best. “You remember when I first came? It was the summer after our parents died. I was lonely and upset. Robert was new and about my age, and knew what it was like to lose your family. We talked. He wasn’t disrespectful or anything. I told him I missed so many things I couldn’t have. He told me he missed reading. I gave him permission to read Mr. Hurst’s books.”

  “You shouldn’t have and he should have known that,” Louisa said, eyes narrowing. “Besides, that was what, five years ago?”

  “He came to me a few months later and asked if he could read another book. I said yes. As we grew older, we both realized that we couldn’t be friends, of course.” No, not friends, she thought. They could never be only friends, when both of them felt so much more. “The last time he asked permission must have been about three months ago.” Robert read much more rapidly than that, but she didn’t wish Louisa to think they spoke often.

  “Well, it’s done now. I’ve no idea of where he is. Mr. Hurst wanted to cut back on the staff anyhow, because his new cook demands an outrageous salary.”

  There was no need to discuss the fact that Mr. Hurst thought it worthwhile to have an extravagantly good cook, even if he often spent months in other people’s homes. But Caroline briefly hated Mr. Hurst for his desire for a good cook, just as she briefly hated Charles for not giving the permission she never dared seek. Charles was very liberal about class, but would never tolerate Caroline marrying a servant.

  She glanced around the room, seeking some reason to leave the table. How would she find Robert now? Who could she ask? Maybe one of the other servants would know, but she wasn’t sure she could trust them not to tell her sister if she asked after Robert. She imagined Robert with nowhere to go and no money for food, and her heart wedged itself in her throat.

  Mr. Darcy came into the breakfast room and moved to the sideboard. Caroline fixed her eyes on him, trying to bring some order to her thoughts. He took a cup of coffee, sitting down with the two of them with a polite nod.

  “Did Charles make it off to London?” Louisa asked him.

  “Yes, less than an hour ago. He said he was going to sleep in the carriage,” Darcy said.

  “Caroline and I were discussing our concern about Charles and Miss Bennet.”

  “Miss Bennet is a delightful girl, but I simply cannot like her family,” Caroline said. At that moment, she would have said anything to promote an appearance of normalcy. She didn’t like the way Louisa kept looking at her, with that thoughtful frown on her face. If her sister settled on any reason to keep her from finding Robert, she could create nearly insurmountable obstacles.

  “We don’t think it right that Charles marry her,” Louisa said. “He can do so much better.”

  “I’ve been concerned as well,” Darcy said. “I don’t think she loves him, although her mother might force her to accept a proposal.”

  Not love him? Caroline thought that Miss Bennet was very much in love with her brother. What was this difficulty her class had with love, that they didn’t seek it and were blind to it when it shone bright before their eyes?

  “Exactly,” Louisa said. “I think we should go to London and try to keep him there. If she isn’t there, he will forget about her.”

  Go to London? Maybe she could find Robert. “He has fallen in love so many times,” Caroline said.

  “And fallen out of love just as often,” Louisa added.

  “I’ll write Miss Bennet and explain,” Caroline said. She didn’t want to let Jane keep her hope up. Caroline would do what she could to discourage her. She should have warned the poor girl off already, instead of indulging in her pleasant company.

  Charles would forget Jane the moment he returned to town. He had no concept of what it was like to be constant in love. Charles was always flitting from woman to woman. Neither Charles nor Louisa had ever known true love.

  ***

  When they returned to London, Caroline was dismayed to learn that none of the staff knew where Robert had gone. He was given only a day to gather his few belongings and leave. At first, she tried to keep her inquiries subtle, but she grew increasingly desperate as the days passed. The knocker was on the door, so he would know they were there. She hoped he would be able to get a message to her.

  When Charles made to return to Netherfield, Caroline was almost taken with a fit. She simply couldn’t leave London again until she found out where Robert was. She had to know he was well. Fortunately, Louisa and Mr. Darcy, to whom Charles deferred above all others, both argued for him to stay.

  Mr. Darcy argued this because he wanted Charles to be happy and Louisa because she wanted him to be rich and well connected. Caroline backed them up at every turn, desperate to remain in London. Finally, Charles agreed to remain.

  Caroline wrote Miss Bennet another letter. She hoped it would make it clear to Jane that Charles wasn’t returning. She knew her brother. He would find someone else. She pitied him, because his own willingness to be persuaded was keeping him from a woman who would make him an excellent wife, but she didn’t do anything to aid him. If he couldn’t muster the wherewithal to return to Netherfield, Jane Bennet deserved to find someone more consistent. Best she be free of Charles’ lackluster affections.

  Chapter Two

  Each day, Caroline tried to hide her eagerness to read her mail, hoping that Robert would write her. She knew it was improper for him to do so, but she hoped he would find some way to manage it. How, she didn’t know, for Robert’s morals were fiercely strict, so subterfuge would not be his answer.

  So each day, when their butler delivered the mail, she sorted her pile quickly, to find nothing of interest. She would then make a pretense of reading what she had received, though she could hardly engage herself. Every day without knowledge of Robert seemed to increase her misery tenfold.

  One morning, while Louisa was sorting throu
gh invitations and Mr. Hurst was reading his mail, the latter spoke, “Robert wrote me.”

  Caroline nearly jumped up from her chair, where she sat attempting to read a rambling correspondence from an old school friend. She carefully placed the pages down and hid her hands in her lap, to hide their shaking.

  “Robert?” Louisa asked.

  “Yes, Robert. Robert Smith. The footman you let go. I wish you hadn’t. He sometimes helped me by writing letters for me. Can’t afford a secretary, but having a footman who writes was useful.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Louisa said. “I thought he was trying to act above his station by reading.”

  “But we all knew his father was a clergyman,” Caroline said. She clenched her hands so hard that her nails bit into her palms.

  “True, but he is only a servant,” Louisa said.

  “Perhaps he could be hired back,” Caroline said.

  “No. He says he appreciates the training he received here and has found another place. He’s taking care of an old man named Wilson. Some kind of merchant, he says. He reads to him and writes a few letters for him.”

  “I gave him a good reference,” Louisa said.

  “Well, it helped him. He said he’s paid more. He just thought we would like to know that we helped him better himself.”

  Louisa reached for the letter and Mr. Hurst handed it to her. She read it, frowning.

  Caroline could see the handwriting, Robert’s powerful upright script, but she couldn’t make out the words or see the address. Greatly daring, she asked, “May I read it?”

  Louisa cast a calculating glance over her. “It’s really nothing,” she said, dropping the letter into the fire.

  Caroline couldn’t control her reaction. A cry escaped her lips as she leaped from her chair, wanting to pull the letter from the fire, but it was too late. She ran upstairs instead. She’d been so close, so close to finding out where Robert was, to reading words penned by his hand, and now it was all smoldering ash. She couldn’t bear it. It was too cruel.

  She lay down on her bed and cried, not caring that her sobs could be heard by anyone passing her door. After her reaction to the letter being burned, there was no hiding the truth. Long moments passed before someone knocked. Caroline ignored it. She knew it was Louisa, and she couldn’t face her. Louisa came into her room, uninvited.

  “Did you love him?” her sister asked. Louisa made no move to offer comfort. She didn’t even come far into the room. Her voice was cold.

  “Go away,” Caroline responded, hating Louisa for daring to relegate her love for Robert to the past, as if it were a set thing that Caroline would give him up. She would never give him up.

  “You know it could never have been,” Louisa said. “You were foolish to ever think it.”

  Caroline saw no reason to respond to her sister. Protests wouldn’t help.

  “I’m thinking of your best interest,” Louisa said.

  “But not of my happiness,” Caroline wailed, provoked. She sat up to glare at her sister.

  “Yes, of your happiness. How long would you have been happy with Robert? Could you live off your income and respect him? Could you have so little, and give up so much, and still be happy?”

  “Mr. Hurst lives off your income,” Caroline said bitterly, “and mine, and I would give up everything I have to be with Robert. Everything.”

  Louisa shook her head. “Yes, we collect your income and use some of it for the household. But we’ve also put some back into your capital. We aren’t trying to cheat you.”

  “I never thought you were,” Caroline admitted, abashed to have implied it.

  “I want your happiness. You will only be happy if you live in society. You would be completely barred from all of your family and friends if you married Robert.”

  “You would disown me?” Caroline wasn’t surprised by the sentiment, but rather that her sister so willingly admitted it, and by the amount of pain hearing it caused.

  “Oh, yes. I wouldn’t want whispers whenever we were invited somewhere, that is, assuming we would be invited after you put such a stain on us.”

  “Charles wouldn’t disown me,” Caroline said, “especially if he marries Miss Bennet. Miss Bennet is the most accepting and caring person I’ve ever known.”

  “Charles wouldn’t approve of you marrying our footman,” Louisa responded, looking a little alarmed.

  “Of course he wouldn’t. But once the marriage took place, he and Jane would accept us.” She could tell Louisa saw the truth of that statement. Caroline brushed the tears from her face, buoyed by the success of her argument.

  “Charles is not going to marry Jane Bennet!”

  “Yes, he is. I will tell him I only persuaded him to stay in London because of Robert, which is true. I will tell him you are more concerned about Miss Bennet’s connections than her character, which is also true. Once he’s settled with Miss Bennet, they’ll accept my marrying Robert. Why can’t you consider our happiness, Louisa? I love Robert Smith, and Charles loves Jane Bennet. We both know she is a sweet girl who would make him a wonderful wife.”

  “Mr. Darcy disapproves of her. Charles will listen to him,” Louisa said. Her back was ridged and she’d gone white about the mouth.

  “Mr. Darcy thinks she doesn’t love him. Even when trying to persuade Charles to come to London, I never said I thought Miss Bennet didn’t love him. Charles will believe me, not Mr. Darcy, and not you.”

  “Charles will forget her.”

  “Perhaps. But he hasn’t forgotten her yet.” Caroline knew that struck home. “Robert will try to get in touch with me again. He can’t know if Mr. Hurst told me anything about his letter.”

  “I will not let him,” Louisa snarled. Caroline flinched back from her anger. “If he sends one more letter, or sets foot near this house, I shall claim that the letter of recommendation Robert used to get his new job was forged. You know that forging a letter of recommendation is illegal, don’t you?” Caroline knew that, and that the punishment was steep. “I will also send you to Mr. Hurst’s estate until you are twenty-one. His mother will be glad to keep you from receiving any mail.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Caroline gasped, standing. She was shaking so hard she nearly fell. “You would have to go to court and perjure yourself.”

  “I would do it to save you from yourself, but you are correct in thinking I would prefer not to,” Louisa said, her words clipped with anger. “I will make a deal with you. You will desist in pursuing Robert and you will continue to actively discourage Charles from marrying Jane Bennet, and I will find Robert and tell him you know he is safe and you’re sorry he’s no longer a part of your life.”

  “That is not acceptable,” Caroline said, almost savagely. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “I will help you dissuade Charles, and you will let me see Robert every week. You will also mention to Mr. Darcy, in my presence, that you gave Robert a good letter of recommendation.” They both knew that Mr. Darcy would never support a lie. Mr. Hurst wouldn’t either, but Caroline suspected he wouldn’t remember Louisa’s mention of the letter of recommendation.

  It took them an hour to agree. Caroline ended up writing down the details and making Louisa sign her name to them. Louisa would find Robert. Caroline and he would meet for half an hour in a public park. They wouldn’t touch. She agreed to not even shake his hand.

  After that, they would be allowed to correspond once each month. Caroline agreed not to elope. She would also keep helping her sister organize Charles’ life to Louisa’s satisfaction.

  The meeting in the park was so brief it hurt more than soothed her. Caroline tried desperately not to cry. Not because of onlookers, but because she knew it would break Robert’s heart not to be able to comfort her, as he always had, since they were fourteen.

  As she walked away, Caroline felt empty and bereft. The feeling didn’t wane in the oncoming months, but they had each other’s letters. They were little enough, but they allowed her to keep up hope.<
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  Chapter Three

  The following summer, Caroline, Charles, the Hursts, Mr. Darcy and his sister, Georgiana, visited some mutual friends before they went on to visit Pemberley, which was Mr. Darcy’s home. Mr. Darcy went ahead to attend to some business. Pemberley was a splendid estate, but Caroline could hardly appreciate it. As her twenty-first birthday drew near, she grew increasingly impatient to throw off the pretense of a life she was living. The grand homes, the endless dances and dinners, they all seemed so vacuous when real happiness was growing ever nearer her reach.

  She also lived with a vague sense of fear. Caroline knew her sister was watching her. She knew Louisa had consented to her writing Robert with the expectation that their relationship would fail. While they never again discussed him after the morning of their agreement, Caroline was plagued by a fear that her sister would make some final attempt to stop her and Robert from marrying. To prevent that, she kept up the pretense of being a London socialite she’d maintained for so many years, and read Robert’s letters and wrote to him only in the privacy of her room.

  Mr. Darcy was there to greet them when they arrived, and they were shown to their rooms. While they were getting settled, Caroline discovered from a servant that her brother, Mr. Darcy and his sister had left to visit someone. This seemed very odd, for Mr. Darcy to take one of his guests and ride off so quickly, but the reason became clear as soon as Charles returned. He told them that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was staying at the local inn. Charles’ interest in Miss Elizabeth was more than his usual interest in a casual acquaintance. Caroline was certain this was because of his former interest in Miss Jane Bennet.

  That evening, Charles mooned about Pemberley, barely able to attend to a thing anyone said. He was terrible company. He was wistful and languid, and Caroline had no sympathy for him. He had his chance at happiness and didn’t take it. He should have stood firm and returned to Netherfield. She knew what it was like to stand firm.

  It galled her that Charles could be handed something as wonderful and pure as Miss Bennet’s love and squander it for lack of a backbone. Yes, she’d played a role, concealing Miss Bennet’s presence in London from Charles to keep her agreement with Louisa. It had pained her to do so, for Miss Bennet had loved Charles then, and it was cruel to keep them apart. At the time, Caroline had consoled herself that she was likely doing Miss Bennet a favor. If Charles really loved her, he wouldn’t have stayed away from her. Charles was shallow and fickle. He had no concept of the sacrifices of true love.