Meant to Be: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Andreea Catana

  His words brought a frown of surprise to all the ladies.

  “What do you mean, my dear?” Mr. Bennet asked. “He is not at all as you or Lizzy described him. I liked him much more than I thought I would.”

  “Really, Mr. Bennet? Was he not rude, nor proud and disagreeable?” his wife insisted. “After all, you saw him at the ball yourself, and your opinion was similar to mine.”

  “Well, now I can safely say that I find him quite the opposite. But of course, it might be because he did not have to dance with me,” the gentleman mocked his serious wife. “We had interesting conversations—probably the best I have had in a long time. Other than your brother Gardiner, I have rarely met anyone whose knowledge and opinion I admire as much.”

  “Surely, you are not speaking in earnest, sir, merely teasing me.”

  “Please look at me closely, madam. Do I appear to be jesting about the subject of my admiration? If so, I would also say that I enjoyed Mr. Hurst’s company, which would be a joke indeed.”

  “Well, I still need good reasons to change my opinion. This evening might be an opportunity for him to redeem himself in my eyes,” Mrs. Bennet declared.

  “Indeed, my dear, I believe that is his main purpose in joining us,” her husband declared in a serious tone, and she nodded in agreement without observing that, this time, he was wearing his jesting expression.

  Elizabeth smiled at her parents’ exchange, but her heart suddenly beat faster. She was delighted that her father had a pleasant time and such a favourable opinion of Mr. Darcy. She was pleased without understanding why; after all, any compliment towards Mr. Darcy should not affect her. And yet it did. Her father’s favourable report encouraged Elizabeth to trust a little more in her positive feelings for the gentleman.

  ***

  Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley arrived on time, but they were alone. Mr. Bingley declared—somewhat uneasily—that his sisters had plans and that Miss Bingley did not feel well enough to leave the house. Jane expressed genuine concern about Miss Bingley’s health while Elizabeth assumed a more rational opinion. She was glad to be spared the sisters’ arrogant presence and dishonest manners. Mr. Darcy looked his usual self, speaking little except for the greetings. Mr. Bingley was exactly the opposite; his curiosity regarding the well-being of each of the Bennet ladies made him even more favourable in Mrs. Bennet’s eyes.

  While they were invited to dinner, Mr. Bingley thanked Mr. Bennet again for his excellent company and recounted what the family already knew about their excursion. However, all the ladies in the room listened to his words as if they heard them for the first time.

  “So, do I understand that you like it here in our little neighbourhood, Mr. Bingley?” Mrs. Bennet asked with satisfaction.

  “Yes, very much! I had never thought to be content in the country, but I can say that I have never been happier in my entire life.”

  Mr. Darcy listened to the conversation between Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Bingley as the praise grew. Elizabeth looked at him, wishing he had given his opinion as well. She resented that her mother never sought his involvement.

  “And you, Mr. Darcy, what do you think?” Elizabeth asked unexpectedly. “Are you of the same opinion as Mr. Bingley?”

  Everyone in the room seemed surprised to hear Elizabeth address the gentleman—including him.

  He answered as though searching for words. “Yes, Miss Elizabeth. I do believe Netherfield is a lovely enough place. Better than many others I have seen.”

  “Lovely enough? I would not know what fault anyone could find with it,” spoke Mrs. Bennet, irritated by the lack of enthusiasm in Mr. Darcy’s voice. “I do not know nor have I heard of any other place in the whole of England that can surpass its beauty.”

  Elizabeth was dissatisfied with Mrs. Bennet’s intention of having a victory over Mr. Darcy. “Mama, I am sure that there are other places more impressive; indeed, we all see things through the eyes of affection and the number of years we have spent living here. I think it would be more reasonable to see it as it really is, with its beauties and its faults as well.”

  “I think I shall stick to what I know,” Mrs. Bennet answered, irritated, and directed her attention once again to Mr. Bingley. “I have not had a chance to thank you for taking care of both Jane and Elizabeth while at Netherfield. You have no idea how I suffered not knowing whether they were in danger. Jane is so delicate; she is like a flower. Imagine if she and Elizabeth had returned in that awful storm—you would not have been able to see her today. Would that not have been a pity?”

  “Yes, it would have been a terrible pity. I am glad nothing harmful happened. But I assure you, they were most welcomed guests and their company was a pleasure for us,” Mr. Bingley replied looking again at Jane, who sat mortified at hearing her mother speak more than she ought.

  “I do hope we shall have many other occasions to see each other then, Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet concluded.

  Mr. Bingley only bowed his head in agreement. For the next hour, the conversation covered many subject; Lydia inquired about the possibility of a ball in the near future at Netherfield—a request met by Mr. Bingley with pleasure and a firm promise. Once the effusion of the two youngest Bennet ladies came to an end, the attention of the party fixed on other subjects, animating them once again. Even Mr. Darcy became more talkative. He even clarified his previous statement, mentioning his approval of Bingley choosing Netherfield among other estates—a statement that slightly improved Mrs. Bennet’s harsh opinion of him.

  After dinner, Mrs. Bennet thought of a way to entertain the guests before they had time to lock themselves in the library with Mr. Bennet, so she invited Mr. Bingley to stay on the couch by Jane and asked Mary to play something on the piano. Mary was reluctant, as was Mr. Bennet who signalled discreetly to his wife not to push it too far while Elizabeth and Jane exchanged worried looks.

  It was all in vain; Mrs. Bennet had to have her way, and she nearly pushed Mary towards the piano. The middle Bennet sister seemed panicked by a terrible fright, and her fingers faltered above the black and white keys, unable to play a single note. The moment grew painfully awkward, the two guests glancing from one to the other, so Elizabeth stood and joined her sister at the piano. Mr. Darcy followed Elizabeth with his gaze, surprised by such impulsivity; he watched her sit next to her sister and whispered something into her ear.

  “Do not be afraid, Mary, we can do this together. I shall turn the pages for you.” Elizabeth smiled. When she returned to look at the music sheet, she met Mr. Darcy’s eyes fixing her. Almost instantly, she began feeling nervous as well, her fingers shaking a little.

  The first notes were played and they sounded strangely loud in the silence. Elizabeth turned to Mary and smiled again; strengthened by Elizabeth’s support, Mary improved quickly. She even dared to play a second piece. Elizabeth was determined not to have her sister exposed to criticism and began accompanying her with her voice, which was strong, yet delicate. Mr. Darcy listened to it, apparently impressed and enjoying the performance.

  And he did—he found Miss Elizabeth truly delightful, even more delightful than the night she wore the same gown at the Rosings ball. He had met her on various occasions—some embarrassing, others less so—but she allowed no adversity to defeat her. She was a strong woman with a mind of her own and a love of life.

  Mr. Darcy’s reveries regarding Miss Elizabeth’s exceptional character came to an end when the music stopped and Mary, overwhelmed by the nervousness of the public performance, was in tears as she confused the notes and ruined the song. Elizabeth continued to sing for a moment then put her hand on her sister’s as a means of sisterly consolation. But Mary could not bear the shame and ran from the room, deeply humiliated by her own weakness.

  “Poor Mary, she is just so shy! Her nerves could not take it!” Mrs. Bennet gave a feeble excuse as Mr. Bingley sat disconcerted by such an unexpected ending.

  “Please excuse me; I shall go with Mary,” Elizabeth said, leaving the room as wel
l.

  When she opened the door to her sister’s chamber, Elizabeth found Mary lying on the bed with tears falling down her cheeks.

  “Oh, Mary,” Elizabeth said gently. “Do not distress yourself!”

  “I am of no use, Lizzy!”

  “Do not say that! I thought you played very well. Anyone can make mistakes; if you continued, I am sure nobody would have noticed.”

  “I know you are purposely lying, Lizzy! They hated me—and my performance.” Mary looked into Elizabeth’s eyes and continued, “You sang so beautifully, and I ruined everything. I have told you I am no good! If only Mama had not insisted.”

  Elizabeth took Mary in her arms and sat with her until the latter stopped crying.

  “Mary, listen to me,” Elizabeth said, wiping her sister’s tears, “no one hated your performance. I thought you were wonderful. Even Mr. Bingley was enchanted by the manner in which you played the tune. I speak the truth.”

  Mary whispered sorrowfully, allowing her sister’s words to ease her pain, “I cannot return downstairs, Lizzy. I am too embarrassed.”

  “Very well then. You may remain here, but promise me you shall not cry one more tear over this matter. It is not worth it! By tomorrow no one will remember any of this.”

  Mary nodded and got into bed, and Elizabeth remained with her a few minutes longer until Mary closed her eyes. Elizabeth sought a blanket to cover her sister and left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

  In the drawing room, the party had split themselves into private discussion groups: Mr. Bennet with Mr. Darcy, her mother with her youngest sisters, and Mr. Bingley with Jane.

  “Is everything well? Where is Mary?” Mrs. Bennet asked.

  “Yes; she is a little tired, and she chose to rest. She apologises for not returning this evening.”

  “Oh, it is better that she is resting. Do not worry; nobody will really miss her presence,” Mrs. Bennet answered lightly, making Elizabeth and Jane pale in embarrassment.

  “Miss Mary’s performance was lovely—as was yours, Miss Elizabeth. You are both very talented,” Mr. Bingley offered kindly.

  Elizabeth thanked him and sat near her youngest sisters.

  “Miss Mary is fortunate to have an elder sister to offer support and comfort,” Mr. Darcy suddenly addressed Elizabeth. “In times of need and sorrow, nothing is stronger than a sisterly bond, and there is no better palliation for a young lady than a sister’s love.”

  His voice had a depth and warmth that seemed to combine with a deep sadness. Elizabeth looked at him, puzzled, allowing her eyes to pose the questions she dared not ask. He held her gaze for a moment that to Elizabeth felt long and tormenting.

  Then his lips twisted in a little smile. “Mr. Bingley is right—you both performed delightfully, Miss Elizabeth. Please let Miss Mary know our opinion as well as our hope to hear her again when she is in better spirits.”

  The surprise of such a statement left Elizabeth speechless; her lips became dry, and she hurried to pour herself a cup of tea. When she returned, Mr. Darcy was still looking at her intently, the blue in his eyes were brightened by some thoughts she could not guess.

  Elizabeth had no further chance to speak to Darcy privately, but their eyes met several times. She saw him more relaxed as time passed, even exchanging polite opinions with Mrs. Bennet and offering Mr. Bennet suggestions regarding Longbourn’s management—a subject that bored Lydia and Kitty exceedingly.

  The evening came to an end late enough for Mrs. Bennet to declare herself pleased and hopeful for another one, and she prepared the story to share the next day with her sister Philips and—most importantly—with Lady Lucas.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mr. Darcy was not to seen at Longbourn for the next several days. Mr. Bingley, however, called three times. On his first visit, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst accompanied their brother.

  Mr. Bennet inquired after Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Bingley informed them that his friend was attending to urgent business that required his presence in London.

  “Mr. Darcy has left Netherfield?” Elizabeth asked with more interest than she would have liked to betray.

  “Yes, I am afraid so,” Mr. Bingley replied. “He was needed in Town,” Mr. Bingley explained.

  Miss Bingley intervened, addressing Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy must have realised that nothing held his interest here. Such a gentleman is usually exceedingly busy; surely, you can understand that he cannot waste his time…for too long.”

  “Well,” Mrs. Bennet said, “I understand completely that Mr. Darcy has directed his attention to something better. He did seem to enjoy the countryside less than you, Mr. Bingley.”

  “Perhaps, but that is not the reason for his departure,” Bingley insisted. “I know he was rather displeased that he had to leave and hoped to return soon.”

  “Oh—well, he may, of course, do as he pleases,” Mrs. Bennet declared. “We are very happy to have you here, Mr. Bingley.”

  The visit of the Bingley siblings lasted slightly over half an hour as the ladies seemed eager to leave and took their brother with them.

  Their hasty departure left Mrs. Bennet displeased, Jane disappointed, and Elizabeth intrigued. If the first two ladies’ preoccupation was with Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth could think of no one except Mr. Darcy.

  On his next visits, Mr. Bingley came alone, offered little news about his friend, remained considerably longer than a proper visit would require, and appeared to be more besotted with the eldest Miss Bennet every day. And yet, he showed no inclination to declare himself, nor did he attempt to steal any private moments with Jane. While Mrs. Bennet was tormented by the delay, Elizabeth strangely felt Mr. Darcy’s absence acutely, puzzled by the motives that might keep him away and wondering whether he would ever return to Hertfordshire. Even more perplexing was the reason his absence was so distressing for her.

  “Perhaps, we could go on a picnic!” Mr. Bingley suggested on his third visit when Jane commented that she and Elizabeth were fond of spending time outdoors. “It would give me great pleasure to organise one if you would like it.”

  “That would be a wonderful idea!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, taking the opportunity to add a further suggestion. “We could have one right here in the grove behind our back yard. It is a wildish enough place, and we do not have to go too far in this hot weather.” Her impulsive decision allowed little room for refusal.

  Mr. Bingley and Jane shared timid smiles, and the gentleman said, “Any place you prefer is acceptable to me. Just let me know how I may help.”

  “Oh, do not worry sir—you only have to come! We will have everything arranged. Shall we say the day after tomorrow? Would that be acceptable?” Mrs. Bennet made sure she did not miss the opportunity.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Bingley agreed.

  The picnic was perfectly organised, and Mr. Bingley praised Mrs. Bennet’s arrangements to make things happen so quickly over the course of only two days The selected place was in the middle of the grove, only minutes away from Longbourn’s back yard, offering privacy to those in attendance while being close to the house in case someone wanted to retire.

  Elizabeth found herself in the midst of an inner turmoil, trying to remain calm while her heart and mind warred with each other.

  The party turned out to be more crowded than she imagined. Earlier, she was shocked to see Mr. Darcy accompany the Bingleys and the Hursts. The presence of additional guests was received with only modest pleasure by Mrs. Bennet, who had hoped for a more private interlude between Jane and her admirer.

  Mr. Darcy greeted them with friendly politeness and addressed Elizabeth directly, declaring he was happy to see her again. She felt herself blushing and was incapable of saying more than, “As are we, sir.” An instant later, she scolded herself for her ridiculous, childish behaviour.

  Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst stood aloof, interacting only as occasional interest required. Mr. Hurst frequently filled his glass of wine, which appeared to please him greatly.


  Mr. Darcy engaged in a private discussion with Mr. Bennet. Lydia, Mary, and Kitty talked by themselves while Mr. Bingley and Jane tried to carry on a conversation.

  Mrs. Bennet was displeased and saw little reason for the picnic. She suddenly felt too warm, and was annoyed at the idea of sitting on blankets on the lawn. She poured herself a glass of wine, took a few gulps, then filled the glass again.

  Elizabeth spoke very little. She was still impressed by the overwhelming affect on her of Mr. Darcy’s absence—and now his sudden presence. She forced herself not to look at him as often as she would like, but she had little success. Between attending to Jane and Mr. Bingley, answering Miss Bingley’s arrogant questions, and attempting to make Lydia less sulky—her sister was in deep pain that Mr. Denny had not come to visit as he promised—Elizabeth’s eyes travelled towards Mr. Darcy as often as her thoughts did.

  She often wondered what he and her father were talking about, as they seemed much involved in a sort of debate. Unconsciously, she smiled at seeing how comfortable they looked in each other’s company, but her smile vanished as she observed Miss Bingley watching her intently.

  “Your father and Mr. Darcy seem to get along fine, Miss Eliza.”

  “Yes, I would say they do.”

  “Mr. Darcy is of a curious nature, having all sorts of odd interests.”

  Elizabeth was set to reply to Miss Bingley as she felt she should when loud laughter from Mrs. Bennet’s vicinity reached her. Miss Bingley looked with contempt at such a scene and then turned to Elizabeth.

  “I see your father is not the only one entertaining himself!”

  Elizabeth blushed in embarrassment. Everybody—including Mr. Darcy, whose reaction mattered most to Elizabeth—turned to look at Mrs. Bennet. Mr. Bennet hurried to his wife, but she was already in a most diverting disposition.

  “So, Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet spoke loudly while drinking the rest of the wine in her glass, “will you return for another dinner in which you can see for yourself my Jane’s talents in the art of cookery?”