Darcy Steps In
A Pride & Prejudice Variation
Nicole Goodall
Everything changes for Elizabeth Bennet when tragedy hits Longbourn.
Principles and feelings must now be forgotten: Elizabeth knows what she must do in order to save her family. As unpalatable as it is, she prepares to swallow her pride and travel to Kent.
There is one factor Elizabeth did not anticipate: Fitzwilliam Darcy. Is he really as hard as he seems or is a kinder nature lurking just below the surface? Elizabeth does not dare allow herself to hope. Darcy may be the only one who can save her from a life of unhappiness.
1
Elizabeth Bennet glanced around the breakfast room, wondering how to escape the unpleasant situation in which she now found herself. Just the day before, she had viewed Mr. Collins as a harmless—if pompous—nuisance. She now had cause to revise her opinion—the man had just declared his wish to marry her!
Elizabeth had lost her initial urge to smile at such foolishness. She had voiced her objections and was astonished when they went entirely unheeded.
Oh, how she wished for Kitty or Lydia to flounce into the room, prattling about some folly or other! Elizabeth fancied she should never think ill of either girl again. But she knew better—her mother had hurried from the room and ordered the others to leave with her. Mrs. Bennet was no doubt to be found lingering in the doorway, preventing any interruptions to Mr. Collins’s proposal.
Elizabeth sighed. Was there no end to his wilful self-deception? And what would her father say when he learned of this?
Elizabeth had seen the way her father looked at his cousin. Indeed, they had shared in a common sense of amusement at the man’s pomposity. Now this gentleman believed her father would give his consent to their marriage.
Elizabeth stood. If Mr. Collins was incapable of believing the words from her own mouth, then surely he must accept the word of her father. She was amazed at his pomposity. She had thought Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy intolerable, but at least his ten thousand a year went some way towards explaining his high self-regard. As for Mr. Collins…
Elizabeth was halfway across the room when she heard a loud shriek from outside the door. She gasped and dashed forward.
‘Wait, Miss Bennet,’ Mr. Collins cried, ambling from the table. ‘You mustn’t…’
Elizabeth scarcely heard him. She threw open the door and gasped at the sight of her mother. Her younger sisters surrounded her, fanning her face and murmuring soothing words. After all, this was not an uncommon sight for the Bennet girls—Elizabeth assumed her mother had overheard her objections to the proposal.
But Mrs. Bennet made no attempt to rebuke Elizabeth. Instead, the woman sobbed and clasped at her throat and pointed towards the library with her other shaking hand.
“Mr. Bennet,” she sobbed, through great racking gasps. “Oh, please. Send for the apothecary. Quick. Oh, you useless girls. Oh, Mr. Bennet.”
Elizabeth felt the colour drain from her face. “What is it, mama?” she cried, looking around for Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper.
It was as if her mother had not heard her. Elizabeth darted forward toward the library but quickly changed her mind. There was no time. Instead, she moved toward the servant’s quarters. Presently, she encountered Mrs. Hill, who must have heard the commotion.
“My father!” Elizabeth cried. “Send a rider to Meryton at once for the apothecary.”
The servant nodded curtly and hurried away. Elizabeth might have gone herself, but she was no horse-woman. Better to have one of the servants make haste on horseback and arrive as quickly as possible.
2
Elizabeth paced outside the door as the apothecary spoke to her mother and Mrs. Hill in urgent, hushed tones. She glanced up at Jane, whose dreamy expression had been replaced by one of great alarm.
‘I’m sure father shall recover,’ the older Miss Bennet said with surprising conviction.
Elizabeth did her best to agree. The truth was she did not share her sister’s optimistic outlook. Their father was not a young man and she had seen the look of agony on his face as she entered the library and saw him lying on the ground.
She turned back to the door and listened. Her mother had eventually been calmed by a measure of brandy, administered by Mrs. Hill. It was a glassy-eyed Mrs. Bennet who had accompanied the apothecary up the stairs.
Elizabeth sighed. It was too much, this waiting. She longed for good news from her father, but she was realistic enough to fear it unlikely. Try as she might, she couldn’t silence the niggling voice in her mind that jeered her about the odious entail that would make Mr. Collins the lawful owner of their home.
‘No doubt our dear cousin is taking stock of his new abode as we speak,’ Elizabeth muttered, glancing in the direction of the stairs.
‘Lizzy,’ Jane exclaimed. ‘I’m sure he’s doing nothing of the kind.’
Lizzy shook her head. There was no sense in debating such a matter with Jane, who was too good-natured to even contemplate the truth. Besides, there was nothing they could do about it. All the same, Mr. Collins’s absence rankled her—what could be more important than attending to his ill host and relation? Surely he knew that her father’s condition was grave?
‘Lizzy? What is it?’
Elizabeth closed her eyes and planted a smile on her face. Let Jane have her peace while she can, she thought. After all, her engagement will be the only thing to save us all from destitution if the worst happens.
She shook her head, but those awful thoughts of the inevitable refused to go away. Lizzy’s logical mind knew what was in store for them. She glanced at the door again. They had been in there for what felt like hours. She swallowed. There wasn’t a sound in the house except for the steady tick-tock of the large mahogany clock downstairs. Even her insensible younger sisters had seen fit to be quiet.
Lizzy sighed and began another circuit of the hallway. The door flew open before she could complete it. Lizzy looked up with a mixture of dread and hope for the impossible.
But it wasn’t her mother at the door, but a grave-faced Mr. Jones.
‘What news of my father,’ Lizzy exclaimed, dashing to his side.
The old man looked grave. Not meeting Elizabeth’s eyes, he shook his head and cleared his throat. He was a man of the sciences; of remedies and draughts. Not of bearing bad news to people, especially women. Elizabeth knew from his reaction that the outlook was bleak.
Jones sighed. ‘I’ve given your mother something to help with her nerves.’
‘But Mr. Jones…’ Elizabeth started. She was too late—the man had hurried down the stairs with uncharacteristic haste.
Elizabeth glanced at Jane, whose radiant glow had started to ebb. Together, they crept through the doorway. Mrs. Bennet was slumped in a chair by her husband’s side. She was positively catatonic now. Their father’s eyes were closed, his skin a strange bluish colour. It was only from the weak rise and fall of the blankets that covered him that his daughters could tell he was still with the living.
‘Father,’ Elizabeth whispered.
Both young ladies turned their heads abruptly. Mrs. Hill stood in the doorway. Her usually dour expression had been replaced with something akin to softness; a transformation which caused Elizabeth much alarm.
‘Mr. Collins requests your presence in the library,’ the housekeeper said quietly.
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I wish to stay with my father.’ She jutted her chin defiantly, dismayed to see her sister stand and obediently leave the room.
‘Wait,’ Lizzy called. ‘My dear Jane, it is I he wishes to speak to. Stay here with Father.’
Sighing, she left the room and descended the stairs as if her legs were leaden.
Mr. Collins sat behind her
father’s desk in the library. Mr. Bennet’s book remained sprawled on the floor where it had dropped it as he fell. Lizzy crossed the room to pick it up and replace it on the table beside his chair.
‘My father is still warm,’ she cried before she could stop herself. ‘Don’t you think this is a little premature, dear cousin?’
Collins coloured but made no attempt to reply, as if such a thing was beneath him. Instead, he recovered his composure and smiled at her kindly, like a generous benefactor. He cleared his throat.
‘If you’d be so kind as to shut the door…’
Lizzy stared at him. Her composure, usually so reliable, was now non-existent thanks to her anguish over her father’s condition. ‘What is it, Mr. Collins? Have you not heard of my father’s condition?’
‘Indeed,’ Collins murmured, closing his eyes and resting his chin on his fingertips. ‘I fancy I should minister to him, but first I wished to speak to you about more pressing matters.’
Elizabeth closed her eyes. ‘I’ve already given you my answer,’ she said as softly as she could.
Mr. Collins looked pained. ‘Forgive my candour, but recent events have rather changed matters, have they not? Mr. Jones seems to believe that your father’s recovery is far from assured.’
Elizabeth swallowed, determined not to allow her eyes to water in the presence of this awful man. ‘He told us no such thing.’
The clergyman smiled indulgently. ‘My dear Miss Elizabeth. Of course he didn’t. Do you think he has time to mop the tears of two delicate young ladies?’
‘I must say, Mr. Collins,’ exclaimed she. ‘Your grasp on my nature is tenuous at best.’
Her tone had been unmistakably cutting, but still he smiled upon her as if she were simpleminded. He spoke as if he hadn’t heard her words. ‘Now then. The current situation has added a certain… expediency. Far be it from me to dissuade a young lady from her modesty of character, but I urge you to drop your objections. We must settle this matter at once for the sake of your family.’
‘Mr. Collins,’ Elizabeth cried, standing and looming over the desk. ‘My father lies ill in his chambers, and your only concern is arranging a marriage to conveniently tie up your interests.’
He balked. ‘If you must know, I was attempting to do your family a kindness. For we both know that I shall inherit Longbourn upon your father’s passing.’
Bile rose up within Lizzy’s throat. Here was this odious man speaking of her father’s mortality with such thinly-veiled indifference.
‘I must go to my father,’ Lizzy said at last, after restraining her first choice of response for the sake of her mother’s nerves. She turned and hurried to the door, mind rolling in turmoil in response to the clergyman’s unkind words.
Lizzy was surprised to encounter Jane half-way up the stairs. ‘What is it?’ she hissed, blinking rapidly. ‘Is it father?’
Jane placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and smiled, which immediately provided relief to her younger sister. ‘He’s awake,’ Jane said. ‘And he wishes to speak to you.’
Lizzy nodded and hurried upstairs.
All hope left her as soon as she entered her parent’s bedchamber. Far from sitting up like she had imagined, her father appeared even more drained of colour than ever. He blinked weakly, as if the act of opening his eyes was beyond him.
‘Father,’ Elizabeth gasped, rushing to his side. ‘Jane said you wish to speak to me.’
He swallowed laboriously. ‘Lizzy. My dear Lizzy.’
Lizzy blinked. ‘I’m here,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, father. When you’ve recovered, I’ll tell you all about my audience with Mr. Collins. It’s the most absurd thing.’ She stopped.
Mr. Bennet’s expression had grown even graver, if such a thing were possible. ‘Lizzy,’ he said, breath rasping. ‘I am loath to say it, but you must put your feelings aside. When I am gone, it is the only hope for this family.’
‘You mustn’t say that, father,’ Lizzy said, leaning closer to him and grasping his hand, dismayed at the feebleness of his grip.
But he ignored her. ‘Promise me, Lizzy,’ he wheezed. ‘Consider Mr. Collins. You’re a resourceful young woman. I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it a tolerable arrangement. But please, for the sake of your sisters.’
Lizzy blinked. The room appeared to close in upon her then. Suddenly she couldn’t hear her father’s rasping breath or her mother’s staccato snores in the chair opposite. ‘But Jane and Mr. Bingley. They’re due to—’
‘Lizzy,’ he said, with slightly more urgency. ‘You know what you must do.’ He chuckled to himself before wincing.
Lizzy cringed at the sight of him in pain.
‘Otherwise your mother will lose her mind even more completely.’
Lizzy couldn’t help but glance at her poor sleeping mother and smile. Any further entreaties to reconsider fell on deaf ears, for Mr. Bennet lapsed back into a heavy sleep. Lizzy remained with him long after nightfall and would have stayed longer had it not been for the intervention of Jane who insisted she come downstairs to supper.
3
Supper at the Bennet’s was a sombre affair that evening. Charlotte Lucas had called and been immediately dispatched by Mrs. Hill, so it was just the Bennet girls and Mr. Collins at the table.
Elizabeth had entered the room and immediately positioned herself as far away from the clergyman as she could manage. She busied herself asking after the men of the ——Militia. Her youngest sisters happily obliged with tales of Meryton and the regiment, much to Mr. Collins’s obvious disapproval.
This unsettled Elizabeth and caused her to lapse into a brooding silence. As soon as the dishes were cleared away, she shot a meaningful glance at her older sister.
Jane understood immediately. ‘Shall we retire to the drawing room, then?’
Lizzy pushed away from the table gratefully and hurried out the door, followed closely by Jane and the others, none of whole could abide their dour, serious-minded cousin. Even Mary seemed little able to tolerate him since he showed little regard for her overwrought opinion on the matters of the day.
‘Lizzy,’ Jane enquired gently once they were settled on the sofa.
Lizzy fumbled with the top of her needlework bag. She had spoken not a word of Mr. Collins’s earlier proposal, but she felt unable to hold back any longer.
‘Mr. Collins asked for my hand,’ she whispered, careful to keep her voice down so the others wouldn’t hear.
Jane clasped her hands over her mouth in surprise. ‘Oh, my,’ she said at last.
‘Oh, my indeed,’ Elizabeth said ruefully.
‘And did you accept?’
Elizabeth baulked. ‘Are you feverish, sister? The man is insufferable.’
Jane smiled. ‘I suppose he is rather a bore sometimes, but he has a good heart.’
‘Why, you’d say the same thing of that awful Mr. Darcy,’ Elizabeth scolded, shaking her head. ‘It is you, Jane, who has too good a heart.’ She sighed and hung her head. ‘No, I was quite frank in my refusal. Whether our dear cousin acknowledged this is another matter entirely.’
Jane patted her arm. ‘Father will never force you to—’
‘Father is gravely ill, Jane,’ Lizzy said in a voice that was little more than a whisper.
Jane’s eyes widened. ‘But Mr. Bingley…’ she faltered. ‘If our mother is correct and…’
Lizzy smiled, amazed at her sister’s bashfulness. For anyone who had seen her sister and Mr. Bingley together at the Netherfield ball would have assumed the matter had been decided. Lizzy fancied her father was being cautious. ‘You’re right, dear sister. You shall marry Bingley.’
‘And you, sister? Who shall have the great privilege of your hand?’
Lizzy smiled. The image of the taciturn, stubborn Darcy appeared in her mind’s eye quite unbidden and she shook her head, surprised and alarmed.
Jane gripped her arm, eyes full of concern.
‘Do not worry,’ Lizzy reassured her. ‘I spoke in jest. Jane
, you should never guess who I pictured when you asked who I should marry.’
‘Who?’ Jane’s eyes practically danced with curiosity, causing Lizzy to forget the solemnity of the day’s events and descend into delighted giggles.
‘Why, Mr. Darcy. Isn’t that absurd?’
Jane’s eyes twinkled. ‘But you despise the man. It’s quite ridiculous. Oh, Lizzy, I do hope you’re not falling ill.’
‘No,’ Lizzy said, clasping her older sister’s hand. ‘But if ever I speak of marrying Mr. Collins, that’s when you’ll know I’ve succumbed.’
The two older Bennet girls dissolved into such helpless giggles that Mary slammed her book on the table and stormed from the room.
4
Dawn brought grave news to the Bennet household. Mr. Bennet had passed in his sleep, sending his wife into histrionics. This time, Mr. Collins was on hand to tend to his late cousin and his wife. With their mother taken to bed, Mary threw herself into coordinating the mourning. She rushed through the house, shrilly crying at servants and pontificating on the most appropriate mourning wear for her and her sisters. The two youngest Bennet sisters were sullen and tearful—their older sisters almost wept with pity for them until Lydia was heard to mutter ‘no more balls for us in the near future, Kitty.’
Elizabeth couldn’t stand the oppressive blanket of sorrow that had fallen over the house. She left quietly, favouring a walk in the gardens. Jane, to whom she was closest, was cosseted to a degree by her new love for Bingley. Lizzy had no such comfort.
She wandered aimlessly through the park, remembering the looks on the faces of the Bingley sisters when she had appeared in their drawing room, muddied and dirty from her walk to Netherfield. How trivial it all seemed now. She sighed and came to a stop. Longbourn was out of sight now, hidden behind the trees and bushes of the park. In the distance, she spied a horse bolting through the fields in the direction of her home. She smiled wanly. How quickly bad news travelled. But it was kind of Mr. Bingley to send his condolences.
Darcy Steps In Page 1
