Only a Heartbeat Away: Pride and Prejudice Novella

by Dixon, P. O.

  Elizabeth entered the room where the Netherfield party was gathered in time to hear Caroline’s commiseration.

  “It is such a shame that Mr. Darcy was called away.”

  Elizabeth tried to hide her dismay. You mean to say he is not here! She did not know whether to be exceedingly pleased that she would not be meeting him after all, especially under the given circumstances, or extremely disappointed that she would likely have no other opportunity to do so. She remained quiet.

  Mrs. Hurst nodded. “Mr. Darcy’s presence was the perfect addition to our country party. Whatever shall we do in his absence?”

  “I fear unless we are able to persuade him to return and in the absence of an invitation to Pemberley at Christmas, it will be months before we are all in company again.” Miss Bingley turned to her brother. “Charles, you must write to Mr. Darcy to ascertain his plans. I should enjoy nothing more than to spend Christmastime at Pemberley.”

  The silence in the room encouraged her to continue. “Indeed, it is most divine.” She looked at Elizabeth. “Should you ever have an opportunity to visit Derbyshire, Miss Eliza, you must go to Pemberley and petition the housekeeper for a tour. I dare say you have never seen anything like it.”

  “Actually, Miss Bingley, I have visited Pemberley. I agree. The house is beautiful, and the grounds are the most spectacular I have ever seen.”

  Miss Bingley’s mouth fell open. “Of course, having a tour of Pemberley hardly compares with residing there as a guest. I do not mind boasting of what intimate friends the Darcys and I have become. How I long to see Miss Darcy again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”

  Elizabeth had never heard Georgiana play what with their limited time together in Derbyshire, but from her friend’s many accounts of spending long hours practising, Elizabeth suffered no doubt over the veracity of Miss Bingley’s proclamations. “I confess not to have met all the Darcys, however—”

  “Surely you do not claim an acquaintance with Mr. Darcy himself! Why, he said nothing of having Hertfordshire acquaintances. Surely were that the case, he would have said something.”

  “No—I have never met Mr. Darcy.” Staring at his likeness in his own home; still more, dreaming of what it must be like to meet him some day does not count. “I can, however, boast of a connection with Miss Darcy. She and I regularly correspond.”

  “You and Miss Darcy correspond regularly? I scarcely believe it.”

  “It is not my intention to persuade you one way or the other; however, I would have no reason to lie.”

  The ensuing conversation did not bode well for the future of Elizabeth and Miss Bingley’s friendship, and just when Elizabeth had begun to suspect she had been too harsh in her initial assessments of the Bingley sisters. Why they would appear jealous of her connection with the Darcys, such that it was, disconcerted her. How happy Elizabeth was when dinner was over, and she returned directly to Jane. There, Elizabeth passed most of the night attending her sister.

  Settled in her own room hours later, one thing was perfectly clear to Elizabeth: the chief part of her evening in Miss Bingley’s company had taught her the young lady had designs on the elusive Mr. Darcy. By all accounts and even her own eyes, he was handsome. He was also rich. Given the professed intimacy of their acquaintance, why would Miss Bingley not be fascinated with the gentleman? She is every bit as pretentious as he is purported to be. The question in Elizabeth’s mind was how he regarded Miss Bingley. Did he return her affection? Had she passed the bulk of the evening in the presence of the future mistress of Pemberley—a place she longed to see once more?

  Elizabeth squeezed her eyes tight. Sleep was determined not to come easily. She sat up in the canopied bed and fluffed her pillow. What does it matter to me how Mr. Darcy feels? I have never even met him!

  Soon after breakfast the following morning, the Netherfield party was surrounded by an army of Bennet women. Having found her daughter Jane in no true danger and receiving repeated assurances from the Bingleys that all that could be done on Jane’s behalf would be done, Mrs. Bennet was at liberty to admire the size of the rooms and the fine furnishings. She remarked on what good taste was evident throughout the hall leading to the drawing room. She was even curious enough to inquire on the well-being of the rest of the Netherfield party.

  “Where is your friend, Mr. Darcy? I half-expected to see him this morning.”

  “I am afraid Darcy has returned to town, Mrs. Bennet.”

  Mrs. Bennet’s face attested to her delight. “Indeed. I pray all is well with his family.”

  “Indeed. His reasons for returning to town are of a personal nature. I assure you his family is quite well.”

  “Well, I do not mind telling you that your friend’s absence from the neighbourhood will be met with great pleasure.”

  Bingley’s mouth flew wide open. He coloured.

  “Mamma!” cried Elizabeth. As shocked as she was, Elizabeth was glad for Mr. Darcy’s absence as well. She had no doubt that were he present, her mother would have found another manner of insulting him.

  “You need not be offended, sir. Everyone who has made your acquaintance is pleased to have you remain here in Hertfordshire; perhaps choose a bride from many of the eligible young ladies and make her the mistress of Netherfield. My Jane has always been envied for her great beauty. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, although I cannot say the same for her eldest daughter, Charlotte.”

  “Mamma!”

  “Why, Lizzy, even Charlotte will allow for her plainness.” Returning her attention to Mr. Bingley, she said, “I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, one does not often see anybody better looking than my Jane. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a man at my brother Gardiner’s in town so much in love with her that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. However, he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. Though, I must say, he wrote some very pretty verses for her.”

  Miss Bingley pursed her lips. “My brother is of an age where his acquaintances are always increasing. He is unlikely to settle for the country for very long. Here, one tends to move in a rather confined and unvarying society.”

  Elizabeth never supposed she wished to hear Miss Caroline Bingley, of all people, give voice to the conversation. Still, she was thankful for the reprieve. Mrs. Bennet would not be dissuaded. Offended by the elegant lady’s manner of mentioning a country neighbourhood, she said, “I assure you that goings-on in the country are as varied as in town.” She huffed. “I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country, for my part, except the shops and public places. But allow your brother to speak for himself. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is it not, Mr. Bingley?”

  “When I am in the country, I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.”

  “Aye—that is because you have the right disposition.”

  “Shall I call for more tea and cake,” said Mrs. Hurst upon espying the empty tray. She had directed her inquiry to Elizabeth’s youngest sister, Lydia. If she had been paying attention, she would have been better served by directing the question to her husband. Having enjoyed his fill of small sandwiches arranged on the sideboard, he stole a seat beside the two youngest Bennet daughters and partook of the delectable morsels on the table before them.

  Miss Bingley silently admonished her sister for extending a courtesy that must surely impede the guests’ quick departure. All this Elizabeth observed, yet she could not take offence for she, too, was eager to see her mother and sisters take their leave. It always pains me to see my loved ones being mocked or ridiculed, regardless of the impropriety of their behaviour. Thus, when Kitty quietly asked her sister if she might request a tour, a simple act that someone of Miss Bingle
y’s temperament would consider more of a burden than an honour, Elizabeth hushed her.

  Talk of the weather soon took precedence, and, before long, Mrs. Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to her Jane. She apologised again for troubling him with Lizzy and soon afterwards ordered her carriage.

  Elizabeth’s eagerness to return to Jane’s side lessened when her youngest sister begged Mr. Bingley to give a ball. Bingley did not seem of a mind to refuse the request in spite of the poorly disguised disgust in his sisters’ voices subtlety questioning Lydia’s audacity. Elizabeth read in Bingley’s voice as well as his countenance the reason for his ready acquiescence. Within minutes it was decided that once Jane was fully recovered, the date would be set, the invitations sent, and a ball, the likes of which Hertfordshire had never seen, would be held. Somehow, this did not sit well with Elizabeth. What good could come from such easy manipulation of the scheme?

  On the other hand, what if Mr. Bingley prevails upon his friend Mr. Darcy to return?

  Chapter 3 ~ A Surfeit of Suitors

  Mr. Bennet was a mixture of wittiness and caprice. He enjoyed few things other than losing himself in a good book in the solace of his library. When he was not doing that, laughing at the ridiculousness of others, including his own family, suited him. On this day, he could hardly wait to impart the intelligence of the impending arrival of Mr. Collins, an estranged cousin and the beneficiary of the Longbourn estate’s entail.

  Mr. Collins’s purposes were everything that might be deemed as good. The gentleman intended to extend an olive branch to the Bennets. It was his way of apologising for the unease that kept his own father, now deceased, and Mr. Bennet apart for so many years. He planned to apologise for the circumstances of his birth and make amends to the lady of the manor by offering his hand in marriage to one of the Bennet daughters.

  Oh, what a happy day! With Jane as good as married to Mr. Bingley, Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied that Mr. Collins should have his choice of any of her remaining daughters; even Lizzy, should he wish it. Mrs. Bennet knew her husband had arranged for the marriage of either of his two eldest daughters to a Mr. Caseman of Lincolnshire, but she also knew his stipulation that they would first be allowed time to find husbands of their own choosing. Mr. Caseman, with his meagre estate miles and miles far away in Lincolnshire, was nothing in comparison to Mr. Bingley with his five thousand pounds a year and his estate just three short miles away. Nor was Mr. Caseman anything of consequence in comparison to the heir of Longbourn in Mrs. Bennet’s estimation.

  Upon his punctual arrival, the peace-making gentleman was received with all the cordiality that was due a man armed with such honourable intentions. Whereas Mr. Bennet had little to say to the guest who observed his surrounding with a proud air of ownership, Mrs. Bennet was quite agreeable. Here was a man who meant to make her life a bit easier. What could be the harm in that?

  By the end of dinner, Mr. Collins’s character was decided. Only Mrs. Bennet and Mary could endure the man with admiration: the former for the obvious reason—his being a future son-in-law and the latter for his well-expressed benevolence towards the family as a whole. To everyone else, he was deemed self-important, overbearing, and quite ridiculous.

  As the days went by, Mr. Collins grew even more tiresome. He was determined to make himself exceedingly agreeable to everyone, and scarcely did the girls have time when he did not insist upon attending one or all of them in one way or another. Settling upon which one of them he wished to admire most seemed a momentous task. On that particular day, Elizabeth escaped the absurdity of it all with the excuse of reading a letter from her friend Georgiana.

  Elizabeth walked to her favourite bench and opened her letter.

  Dearest Elizabeth, the letter began. I am delighted to be in company with my brother since his arrival in town after visiting with his friend Mr. Charles Bingley. You will by now have met Mr. Bingley’s sisters and thus are fully cognizant of my reason for having never mentioned them before. Please do not think I was remiss in not having mentioned my brother’s being in proximity to you whilst in Hertfordshire. By the time I learned of his plans, he had already come and gone. I am sorry he did not have an opportunity to meet you. When he spoke of having being there, I immediately asked if he had made your acquaintance. Of course, he had not, but he did speak of meeting other members of your family, including your dearest sister, Miss Bennet. He spoke of her having taken ill at Netherfield on the day before he took his leave. I pray your sister has returned to full health. I can hardly wait to make her acquaintance.

  Elizabeth frowned. Was her friend merely being polite when expressing her brother’s opinion of the people of Hertfordshire? If he were half as uncharitable in his praise of them as they had been of him, then there was little possibility of masking his disdain. On the other hand, Georgiana was at least nine years his junior. Perhaps there were some things an older brother did not share with his younger sister. Add to that, he was her guardian. With the death of her father, Georgiana often likened her brother to more of a parent whenever she made mention of him in her letters.

  Elizabeth set her missive aside and headed out for a walk to Oakham Mount, her favourite place, accompanied solely by her musings. On her way out the door, she espied Mr. Collins busily engaged in a game of backgammon with her father. Seeing the two of them together recalled her to her father’s plans. The odds of her escaping his pre-arranged marital scheme were growing against her. With Jane just as likely to marry Mr. Bingley as not, and Elizabeth with nary a prospect in sight, there was the possibility the latter might be expected to marry that ridiculous man, Mr Collins, or that complete stranger Mr. Caseman. Elizabeth took heart. With the militia’s arrival in town, perhaps she might meet someone of her own choosing still. She cast a parting glance over her shoulder as she reached for the doorknob. One can always hope.

  ~*~

  The day before, the young ladies of Longbourn with their cousin in tow, had the good fortune of meeting the handsomest, most amiable officer ever to grace the town of Meryton—at least that is how Elizabeth’s youngest sister, Lydia, described the gentleman. Elizabeth was inclined to agree; however, being an older sister and thereby expected to set an example of proper decorum for the younger girls, she kept her opinion to herself. That did not lessen her enthusiasm when the coach conveyed Elizabeth, her sisters, and their cousin Mr. Collins to a dinner party at her Aunt and Uncle Phillips’s home in Meryton. When they entered the drawing room, the girls had the pleasure of hearing that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle’s invitation and was then in the house.

  There was nothing to do but take their seats and occupy themselves in a manner that made them oblivious of their cousin’s attentions to their Aunt Phillips while they waited for the gentleman who must certainly be on her younger sisters’ minds and Elizabeth’s as well.

  When at last he entered the room, Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself. The agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on the weather, made her feel the skill of such a speaker surely must render the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic interesting. He spoke of many things: his new profession in the militia, his love of life, and his youthful days in Derbyshire.

  “Derbyshire is your home, sir?” What a coincidence this is! “I travelled to Derbyshire just last summer with my aunt and uncle from town. I visited many beautiful places including Pemberley, where I made the acquaintance of Miss Georgiana Darcy.”

  Crossing and then uncrossing his long legs, Mr. Wickham cleared his throat. “I suppose if you have met Miss Darcy, then you may have heard of me. No doubt she would have said something to you about me.”

  “She often speaks of her brother in her missives and occasionally she makes mention of her cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. I am afraid she has never spoken of you, sir. Why would she? Have you a connection with h
er family?”

  “Indeed. I have been associated with her family since my birth.”

  This information excited Elizabeth’s curiosity. “You will not be surprised to learn that Mr. Darcy was a guest at Netherfield Park, a neighbouring estate of Longbourn, a short while back.”

  “Indeed. This is a surprise, but I must confess that it has been some time since Darcy and I last encountered each other. I know nothing of his comings and goings of late.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir. You spoke of enjoying a connection with the family. I only supposed—”

  “It is a long story, which I am certain you do not wish to know. Pray how did you and Darcy get along whilst he was in Hertfordshire. With his residing at a neighbouring estate, I imagine the two of you had many opportunities to be in each other’s company.”

  “I never truly met the gentleman. His stay was of a short duration.”

  “Then you have no opinion of him?”

  “Nothing of which to form a true sketch of his character. I have heard varying accounts of him.”

  Wickham leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself. He and I were once considered very close.”

  Elizabeth could not help but look surprised.

  “It is just as well that Miss Darcy has never spoken of me. She is just like her brother, which causes me to marvel at your being acquaintances. She and her brother are descendants of nobility, their late mother’s brother being the Earl of Matlock. I do not mind saying they are a very proud lot who barely countenance those who are not their equals in consequence.”

  Elizabeth shifted in her seat. It was one thing to allow for foul sentiments spoken against Mr. Darcy, someone whom she had not met, but had made a poor name for himself amongst her friends and family. It was quite another to cast aspersions on her friend. Gossiping about one’s own friend is something I dare never tolerate.