Meant to Be: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Andreea Catana

  Turmoil blurred Elizabeth’s judgment, and she barely knew what she was saying. “Miss Darcy? But she is very young! How could this be? And what made him presume he had the right to decide for my sister?”

  “That is Darcy. He has no consideration for anyone, and he cares about nothing but his own pride and preferences.”

  Mr. Wickham sadly looked at Elizabeth once again.

  “You must surely realise that I had a personal interest in Miss Darcy’s story, and I share your pain regarding Miss Bennet. I know how you feel; I know how you must suffer. That is why I dared bring this subject to you. I have never told these things to any other soul, and I beg for your secrecy.”

  Elizabeth bowed her head to hide her turmoil. Regaining her composure and being able to think properly again were impossible at that time.

  “So…are you implying that Mr. Darcy was the one who separated his friend from my sister and that he also separated his sister from a gentleman who owned her heart? Only because of his pride?”

  “Yes; I know for certain he did so with his sister in the cruellest possible way! He locked her in their Pemberley manor under the strictest supervision.”

  The night of the Rosings ball came urgently to Elizabeth’s mind with as pieces of it fell into an order she barely had time to understand. Was Mr. Wickham the gentleman who won Miss Darcy’s heart? From his telling, that seemed to be the answer. But she also recollected the way Mr. Darcy and the colonel spoke of the event and their worry about the danger Miss Darcy had been in. More questions spun in her mind, and she suddenly felt dizzy.

  “When did it happen?” she inquired weakly. “The situation with Miss Darcy.”

  “I would say…last summer.”

  She was not surprised by the answer but was pained to have all her doubts vanish.

  “And he did the same with Bingley now. His friend is an amiable gentleman but inferior to Darcy in education and strength. Darcy likes to have such acquaintances; they are easier to dominate. Darcy is a man of many faces but, I am afraid, just one character.”

  Elizabeth shivered.

  “After this unfortunate matter, I have renounced the living his father left me—the generous offer I had been promised. Of course, with those accusations, I could no longer claim the clergyman’s life, and I just had to find another situation for myself. Unfortunately, I have no news about Miss Darcy; I only hope she has forgotten me.”

  Mr. Wickham’s story paused, but Elizabeth’s feelings grew more tormented with each breath. This new Darcy that appeared before her was a frightening sight. Mr. Wickham had given a rational account—she allowed that much—and that was precisely what terrified her the most.

  Elizabeth wished she could be left alone to think about what she had heard, but she had nowhere to go. And worse, she had no one to talk to; Jane was at home, and the rest of her family was unaware of the torment inside her. She was lonely and desperate to talk to someone.

  “Mr. Wickham, I am so sorry for your suffering!” she uttered in defeat.

  “I am sure you will understand that I have chosen to reveal all of this in the hope that I shall thus save another soul from unnecessary suffering.”

  “Thank you, sir. And please be assured of my secrecy. I will not mention this story to anyone; have no fear of that.”

  She knew it to be true. His story would never reach other ears—except maybe Jane’s when she was strong enough to hear it. She had to bear the burden alone. Mr. Wickham’s retelling may not help Jane, but it surely helped her. It offered her a deeper—and more painful—realisation that she had been wrong all along about Mr. Darcy. Her positive opinion of him was based on false facts and hopes. She misjudged him completely, and now she had to bear the consequences.

  Elizabeth did not speak a word, nor did Mr. Wickham; instead, she her eyes lingered aimlessly on Maria Lucas, who had just started playing the piano, and barely noticed Lydia’s approach.

  “Mr. Wickham, you must dance with me at once! Come, I do love this dance! Is it not wonderful?”

  “Lydia…” Elizabeth replied weakly, but Mr. Wickham had already risen.

  “If your sister will excuse me, it will be my pleasure to dance with you, Miss Lydia.”

  “Oh, forget about Lizzy! I shall die if I cannot dance this tune!”

  Mr. Wickham smiled, took Lydia’s hand, and walked to the dance floor with only a glance at Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth could not attempt to remain calm; she looked at the room full of people who were talking and dancing. No one had any interest in her, and for that, she was grateful. Her mother continued to talk to Lady Lucas—completely oblivious to Lydia’s loud laughter—while Kitty danced with an officer, throwing angry looks at her youngest sister who had secured the company of Mr. Wickham.

  Elizabeth left the room, resolved to remain alone. She could bear it no longer; the sharp claw that cut her heart took her breath away.

  She had been a simpleton who had allowed illusions to blind her; she had been fooled by a pair of blue eyes.

  At last, she cried.

  ***

  Jane’s state of mind did not improve as the days passed, and Elizabeth’s became worse. Since she could do nothing for herself, Elizabeth struggled to find a palliation for her sister’s sorrow. Therefore, she wrote a letter to her aunt and uncle Gardiner, describing for them the facts as well as Jane’s lack of spirit.

  The reply came in about a week and contained an invitation to London for both sisters.

  Elizabeth was torn between joy and fear, and at first, she was ready to refuse. Increasing their distance from Longbourn might be a good idea—for Jane and for her—but the danger of meeting Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy in Town was frightening. However, on further consideration, Elizabeth realised the reasons for her concern were not sound. London was too large a place for fortuitous meetings, especially since the Gardiners lived in a completely different part of Town, and they surely did not attend the same events or see the same people as the Bingleys and Darcys.

  Still undecided, Elizabeth went to her father for help. She found him in the library with a book in his lap. Even though such a sight was familiar to Elizabeth, the expression on her dear father’s countenance was not. Mr. Bennet seemed lost in thoughts of a troubling kind, looking deeply perturbed.

  “Papa, is everything all right?” she asked for lack of a better way to articulate her worries.

  Mr. Bennet reacted, assuming his regular posture. “Yes, Lizzy! Come!” He closed his book without suppressing Elizabeth’s worries. “What brings you here?”

  Elizabeth told him about the letter she had sent to her aunt and uncle. Mr. Bennet was neither surprised nor opposed to the suggestion and expressed his reserve on only one aspect of it.

  “Lizzy, are you sure your sister is comfortable with this?’

  “She has to be, Papa! Once I have your approval, I will convince her. This is certainly the best thing for her—and for me.”

  Mr. Bennet watched her closely. “Are you distressed too, Lizzy?”

  She smiled nervously. “No, Papa…I mean—I am…for Jane.”

  “I am glad to hear that. To be honest, I thought that, after a few days of suffering, Jane would recover. This suffering in love is quite common for young people,” Mr. Bennet spoke with failed mockery. “But I am forever puzzled by the inexplicable mystery of the female mind.”

  “I know, Papa. I hoped it too! But apparently, her feelings for Mr. Bingley were stronger than any of us suspected,” Elizabeth replied sadly.

  “It is all Mrs. Bennet’s fault! I advised her against encouraging Jane towards Mr. Bingley.”

  “We are all to blame, Papa…we all encouraged Jane into thinking Mr. Bingley cared for her.” Mr. Bennet looked at Elizabeth in surprise, accepting the truth at the same time.

  “That is why I need to do something to remedy my mistake.”

  “Well, then go. I have seen your mother busy now with Mr. Wickham. He has become her favourite, I am afraid. I wonder wha
t problems will come from that.”

  Elizabeth sighed and placed her hand on her father’s shoulder. She knew he was right; Mr. Wickham, since she last talked with him, had visited the house on two other occasions—once alone and once with Mr. Denny. He was so amiable that Mrs. Bennet soon regained her previous inclination to admire army officers, and she did it without concealing her fondness.

  “So, Lizzy, when are you to be headed to London?” Mr. Bennet spoke, rising from his chair

  “As soon as possible, providing I shall convince Jane.”

  “I assume it will be for quite a while, will it not?”

  “At least a month, Papa, if you approve.”

  “I do, but I shall miss you, my dear. When you are not here, this house seems emptier.”

  Elizabeth embraced her father, and with that, she felt a quiet despair. She knew there was something else he was not telling her that had nothing to do with Jane. At last, she could only say, “Oh, Papa, I shall miss you dearly too.”

  And thus concluded their talk. Elizabeth went to their chamber to talk to Jane; she wanted to discuss the London trip as well as her concerns about their father with her eldest and wiser sister, but she found Jane asleep. She whispered her name a few times, but as there was no response, she left. She was not sure whether her sister was avoiding her, or whether she was really asleep. From the hall, Elizabeth heard Mr. Wickham, Mr. Denny, her mother, and sisters in the drawing room; she wondered whether she should join them, but at the last moment, she decided against it and left the house.

  Elizabeth walked until Longbourn was far behind. After a while, she found herself in front of Netherfield; for the first time, Elizabeth saw no charm in it, only the pain it had brought her. She had always admired the estate, but now it was only the remembrance of a past she did not want anymore. For a moment, she thought she saw Mr. Darcy standing at the entrance. The image disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and Elizabeth found herself wishing nothing more than to have the man in her presence and allow herself to tell him things that were on her mind—to tell him that he was a cruel man who had destroyed Jane’s happiness, a man with so little remorse that he could stand there in front of her and pretend he was something other than he was.

  That he was nothing to her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When she returned home, Elizabeth found Mr. Wickham still in the drawing room with her mother and younger sisters.

  “Have you been for a walk, Miss Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, I have. It is a wonderful day outside, and I wanted to make the most of it.”

  “Perhaps, next time I shall have the privilege of accompanying you,” Mr. Wickham replied with a gallant look.

  Lydia immediately intervened. “I am a great walker too, Mr. Wickham.”

  “I am sure you are, Miss Lydia! I hope I shall have the pleasure of accompanying you both.”

  “When, Mr. Wickham?” Lydia uttered impatiently.

  Mr. Wickham sighed. “That would have to be seen as we are to depart in a week’s time for Brighton.”

  His news produced quite an effect on both Mrs. Bennet and Lydia.

  “Mr. Wickham, you never told us! Surely, such an event will not take place so soon.”

  “I am afraid it will, Mrs. Bennet. We are expected to leave before a fortnight—most likely in a week.”

  With Lydia on the point of crying openly, Mrs. Bennet began to express her hope that they would see more of Mr. Wickham before his departure; a promise was gladly given in exchange.

  After the officer left, Lydia sobbed disconsolately throughout dinner, announcing that she would not be able to live knowing Mr. Wickham was so far away. Mr. Bennet put an end to the tumult, announcing that he needed at least one hour of every day without a din so he could enjoy his meal.

  On the following morning, much to Elizabeth’s surprise, Jane came down for breakfast. Her presence was met with calm; even Mrs. Bennet understood not to trouble Jane with useless comments.

  “Mama,” Lydia said, “we must invite Mr. Wickham again soon before he leaves!”

  “Jane, do you know Mr. Wickham? He is an army officer, and he is very pleasant and very handsome, and Lydia claims a special friendship with him, which is not even true.”

  Kitty spoke hastily. “Lydia fancies him greatly, but he takes no notice of her.”

  “La, Kitty, you are so jealous!” Lydia cried. “You have no idea what Mr. Wickham likes as he barely looks at you when he is around.”

  The sudden row caused by Lydia and Kitty was put to rest by Mr. Bennet before it transformed into a war of insults; Lydia answered by leaving the room in tears, declaring that she would not leave her room until Mr. Wickham called again.

  Later that day, to everyone’s surprise, Jane declared she would like to go to Meryton. She had not seen her aunt or her friends in quite a while and she felt she had stayed in the house long enough.

  Her statement was met with puzzlement and joy by Elizabeth. She knew her sister was making a great effort to return to her usual self and to behave as her family and friends expected. However, it was a good first step to returning to her old routine. Elizabeth also hoped to catch a few moments to speak to Jane alone about the Gardiners’ invitation.

  Kitty and Mary decided to join them—one to purchase a new bonnet and the other just to be in her sisters’ company.

  Midway to Meryton, Jane stopped, and Elizabeth did the same while Kitty and Mary were ahead of them. Kitty was amused by her sister’s absence and kept wondering whether they would happen to meet Mr. Wickham and Mr. Denny.

  “What is it, Jane?” Elizabeth asked. “Are you feeling ill?”

  “No—quite the contrary. It is astonishing how one can see the same things in a new light in the course of just a few days.”

  “I am so glad to have you back, Jane. I thought that—”

  “I am fine,” Jane announced. “I am more than fine; I have got myself over Mr. Bingley.”

  Elizabeth knew that, perhaps for the first time in their lives, her sister attempted to deceive her. But she dared not contradict her.

  “Do not look at me like that, Lizzy! I speak the truth. Were Mr. Bingley before my eyes, I would feel nothing for him.”

  “Jane dearest…”

  “Lizzy, please do not doubt me. And please let us not speak of this again.”

  “Very well—be as you wish. But, my dear, there is something I have to share with you. Our Aunt Gardiner wrote to me. She has invited both of us to London for a month.”

  Jane looked at her sister with an unmoved expression.

  “We should go, Jane,” Elizabeth continued. “For countless reasons, we should go. London is not very crowded in the summer. The Season has not started yet and many people are still at their country estates. We will have a pleasant time with our aunt, uncle, and cousins. We should go,” she insisted.

  Jane lowered her eyes then started walking again. “Very well, Lizzy. As you said earlier: it will be as you wish.”

  Elizabeth followed her in silence for a few minutes, surprised and concerned for her sister’s quick acceptance—but also relieved. A month away from Hertfordshire would do them both good.

  As they walked side by side, they could hear Kitty’s laughter as she talked to Mary at a distance to be heard but not seen.

  Then a cry startled the eldest Bennet sisters and made them run, only to find Kitty fallen to the ground, crying in pain while Mary watched her in tears.

  “Kitty fell. I think she broke her left arm. I could not catch her. She just slipped, and I…” Mary‘s voice and hands trembled in panic.

  “Let me see.” Elizabeth sat near her sister, helped her up, and then touched her swollen hand.

  “It hurts so badly, Lizzy. And my ankle too…oh, and I broke my shoe! Will I be able to dance again, Lizzy?”

  “We shall have to worry about that at a later date, Kitty!” Elizabeth declared. “Right now, we have to take you home. One of use should go and get John with the ca
rriage. I only hope Papa did not use it on business. And we should fetch the apothecary.”

  “It hurts so much, Lizzy! I think I shall faint if I move from here!” Kitty cried, afraid of moving.

  “Do not worry, dear, we shall not force you to move.”

  Jane spoke up. “Lizzy, I will go get the carriage; then I will take the horse and go to town for the apothecary. I am the only one who rides well enough to do it quickly.”

  “Very well. Take Mary with you; I do not wish you to go alone.”

  Jane and Mary agreed, and they hurried back down the road while Elizabeth remained near Kitty, holding her hand. She was calm, knowing that any sign of panic would be worse for Kitty.

  “I am going to die, Elizabeth. I am sure of that.”

  “No one dies of an injured hand and ankle, Kitty. I cannot count the number of times I hurt myself when I was a child.”

  “Oh, but you are much braver, Elizabeth. I am sure this is only Lydia’s fault. She must have thought ill of me and forced this bad luck. She would do anything to stop me from seeing Mr. Wickham.”

  Despite the disturbing incident, Elizabeth could not stop her laughter. “Dear Kitty, you are just too much.” She gently caressed her sister’s hair, and Kitty began to sob.

  When Elizabeth heard hoof beats approaching, she was happy—and surprised—that Jane had reached Longbourn and returned so quickly.

  “Is it Jane? Or Papa?” Kitty asked with a feeble voice. “It hurts so much!”

  Elizabeth put her hand to her forehead to shade her eyes and looked closely. It was surely not Jane, but the sun kept her from recognising the rider.

  “Oh, Lizzy, maybe is one of the officers. Could it be Mr. Wickham? Can I be so fortunate?”

  “Kitty, don’t speak so loudly,” Elizabeth whispered.

  “But I am in so much pain! Am I not allowed to speak even when I am hurt? This is so unfair!”