Foiled Elopement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  Entering, Darcy found he’d narrowly missed Miss Bennet, who was on her way back to Longbourn. Elizabeth had promised to show him her home the following day, after Miss Bingley’s tea. Darcy was looking forward to meeting her mother and remaining sisters, though he sensed Elizabeth’s trepidation. When asked, all she would say was that she was afraid they were a bit silly.

  Darcy made his way to the parlor, finding his sister, Bingley, Miss Bingley and the Hursts, but not Elizabeth. Georgiana was hard at work on her painting, and he guessed his sister had gotten Miss Bennet to sit for her at least some of the time she was visiting.

  She didn’t greet him with the others, not turning to him until they stilled. “Did you find him?”

  She didn’t whisper the question. No incriminating guilt crossed her features. To those assembled, it must look as if she spoke of a man who had attempted to coerce her into absconding with him and struck Elizabeth, nothing more. “We did.”

  “And?”

  “If all goes well, he’ll be transported. Even if he serves out his sentence, it would be difficult for him to return to England.”

  She nodded, looking satisfied. “When Jane left, Elizabeth said she was tired and went up.”

  “Thank you. I’ll join her.” He bid the others, who’d been studiously pretending not to observe the exchange, good night.

  He found Elizabeth in their rooms, reading. She set her book aside when he entered, coming to her feet. Her face was full of question.

  “He won’t trouble us again,” Darcy said.

  Elizabeth smiled, her relief clear. “Did you find out what he planned? From father’s letter, I was worried he would try to do with Kitty or Lydia what he failed to do with Georgiana.”

  Darcy shook his head as he crossed to his wife. “I didn’t remember to ask.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t suppose it matters, so long as my sisters and Georgiana are safe.”

  “They are, and so are you.” He let his gaze wander over her. She was clad in a nightgown and robe, her long hair free down her back. He longed to wrap his arms around her, draw her warmth to him. He would never tire of the feel of Elizabeth in his arms. He took a step closer.

  “I wish I could have seen my father. I’m sure he was magnificent. He sounded very excited to implement the plan in his letter.” She frowned, her eyes unfocused, her mind on her thoughts. “I knew he had a copy of the report on the duel and of Wickham’s penmanship when we came up with the plan and wrote to him. When he wrote back, he said he would use those but that he had something even better than words. Did he tell you what it was?”

  “I didn’t see him.” Darcy didn’t care what Mr. Bennet had. He wanted those beautiful eyes to focus on him.

  “You didn’t? Well, I can ask him tomorrow, at tea. I’m surprised you didn’t see him.”

  “I’m surprised you’re still talking about family and tea,” he said, reaching out to pull loose the bow tying closed her robe.

  Her eyes went wide. Her gaze met him. A smile curved her lips. “You’re right. I’m sure to hear every detail tomorrow. There are other things we could be talking about right now.”

  “Talking?” He put a wealth of protest into his tone.

  “Well, maybe not talking.”

  He slid her robe free and she stepped into his arms.

  ***

  Elizabeth had been trying not to let Darcy know, but she was terrified of him meeting her mother and younger three sisters. She knew he wouldn’t get on with them. Who could? He didn’t have her familial love of them to dampen their disagreeableness, though. Alone in her room, ostensibly readying for tea, she paced, trying to subdue her worry.

  A knock came at the adjoining door of the suite Mr. Bingley had given them. The door opened and Darcy stepped in. As always when he entered a room, Elizabeth was struck anew by how handsome her husband was. She took in his impeccable state of dress and suppressed a sigh, amused by the inclination to do so. What need had she to sigh over him? He was hers.

  “There’s a carriage in the drive,” he said. “You look beautiful.” He crossed the room. Cupping her chin, he kissed her.

  Elizabeth let herself enjoy his attentions for a moment, but pulled away when she realized she was lifting her arms to twine them about him. She knew where Darcy’s kisses could lead, more easily than she’d ever imagined. She would not go down to greet her mother and irrepressible little sisters all mussed. “We should go down.”

  “There are a lot of them.” He caressed her cheek. “It will take them ages to disembark.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “There are not that many and it will not. There’s no time for that now.”

  Darcy shook his head in mock sorrow. “The suffering I endure.”

  Elizabeth didn’t let her smile waver, but his words sent her into another frenzy of worry. She turned toward the door. Feeling like a man marching to the gallows, she opened it and headed for the stairs. Though he tread softly for a man of his stature, she could hear Darcy as he followed behind her.

  Her father and mother came in first. Jane was next, her eyes not even meeting Elizabeth’s as she sought Mr. Bingley. Mary followed, looking more composed than Elizabeth generally recalled. Her slight reserve, and sureness, lent her a more sophisticated air, which in turn augmented her rather plain looks.

  Kitty and Lydia came in side by side, both looking a bit awed. They too seemed more mature than Elizabeth recalled. Certainly, they were quieter than she’d expected. They didn’t even speak out of turn as Miss Bingley went through the greetings.

  Soon, everyone was seated at a large table. Mr. Bingley was on one end, Jane to his left and Miss Bingley to his right. Mr. and Mrs. Hurst were there as well, and Georgiana, who sat between Kitty and Lydia, her cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam on Kitty’s other side. Conversation arose around the table, people speaking in small groups, but no one laughed too loud, or called out, or blurted anything overly foolish.

  By the time the meal was over and they adjourned to the parlor, Elizabeth was in a state of mild shock. A whole meal, and everyone had behaved. She didn’t know who to credit, or what to think. Had she made her family worse in her mind, while away from them for so long? She had been first to Scotland, then at the inn, then to Pemberley. It was ages since she’d seen her mother, Mary, Kitty and Lydia. Still, how could they be so changed? She stood at the edge of the parlor, watching her mother listen to Mrs. Hurst, and simply didn’t know what to think.

  “You look so pretty, Lizzy,” Lydia said, leaving Georgiana’s side to join Elizabeth. “That gown must cost a fortune, and it’s only for tea. Papa said your Mr. Darcy is very rich.”

  The words were expected, but Lydia’s quiet tone, keeping the improper sentiments between them, was new. “How are you, Lydia? I should like to come by later, to see you all. I haven’t been home . . . that is, to Longbourn in such a great time.”

  Lydia’s expression was contemplative. “I’m well, I think. It was a great shock, what happened with Mr. Williams.”

  “You mean, Mr. Wickham?”

  “I suppose I do.” Lydia looked about before turning back to Elizabeth. “I’d only met him one time, but Kitty knew him well. At least, she thought she did. He said he was in love with her. They were going to elope to Scotland. He said I could come too, to be her chaperone on the way there, so it was all above board.”

  “He said what?” Elizabeth whispered. She shut her eyes for a moment, infinitely relieved her father had discovered Wickham when he had.

  “We were going to go, too. We had it almost all planned.” Lydia’s expression was worried.

  “Oh Lydia, I’m so happy Papa discovered him in time.”

  “I am as well. I had it in my head it would be a great adventure. He was so charming and handsome.” She shook her head, ringlets bouncing. “Then, to learn he’d lied about his name, which means he wasn’t even an officer, and that he hit you, our very own sister.”

  Involuntarily, Elizabeth reached up to touch the location of t
hat blow. She had recovered, but she would never forget. No one had ever struck her like that before.

  Lydia let out a sigh, looking pensive. “I never thought about a thing like that, a man lying about who he is. He probably wasn’t even going to marry Kitty.”

  “No,” Elizabeth said. “Probably not. Is Kitty very upset?”

  Lydia’s eyes went to their sister, who looked to be in serious conversation with Miss Bingley. “She’s a bit.” Lydia smiled. “I daresay if you would get her to talk with that Colonel Fitzwilliam she’d forget all about Mr. Williams. He’s Mr. Darcy’s cousin, isn’t he? Colonel Fitzwilliam, that is.”

  A smile tugged at Elizabeth’s lips. “He is, and that’s a splendid idea.”

  The colonel had been a bit subdued since learning Jane preferred Mr. Bingley. Kitty was a lovely girl, and sweet. When the men joined them in the parlor, Elizabeth would make sure they spoke. Maybe Kitty would help him forget his attachment to Jane.

  “What about you, though, Lydia?” Elizabeth asked. “You don’t want to talk with Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

  Lydia shook her head again. “I was thinking, perhaps, I should learn to tell if a man is lying before I try to marry one. I was speaking with Miss Darcy. She says a woman doesn’t need to rush out and wed. She said that marriage is for life, and if we make a wrong choice we are stuck with it. We should learn enough to make ourselves valuable, because that gives us more choices.”

  Elizabeth looked over at Georgiana. She’d moved to speak with Jane when Lydia left her. She gestured toward the front of the house. Elizabeth was sure Georgiana was trying to get Jane to go sit for her again. Jane smiled, but shook her head. “Miss Darcy said all that, did she?”

  “She did. I don’t know if she’s right, but it’s something I’ll think about.” Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Papa’s been trying to get us to learn more too, and be responsible.”

  “Is he succeeding?”

  Lydia sighed. “I suppose.”

  She moved off then, going to speak with Jane and Georgiana. Elizabeth continued to watch, bemused, as her family mingled peaceably with the Bingleys, Hursts and Darcys.

  Epilogue: Wedding Planned

  While waiting for the man Georgiana planned to marry, Darcy looked at some of her paintings that hung in the office of his London house. His favorite was of Elizabeth holding their daughter, who was then three. Elizabeth and Anne were smiling at each other. As was often the case, Georgiana seemed to catch the positive essence of her subjects’ characters. Darcy was also fond of a sketch of his daughter Anne reading to her younger brother, Fitzwilliam. The hastily done sketch hadn’t been turned into a painting, but somehow Georgiana had captured the bond between brother and sister. Most treasured of all, though, was a sketch of Elizabeth seated at a pianoforte. The portrait he’d half fallen in love with while seeking her, over ten years ago.

  He frowned. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with Georgiana painting portraits for money, nor was he happy about her intention to marry Mr. Greyson, her one-time art teacher, but Darcy had long ago lost control over her. Elizabeth told him it was a good thing that Georgiana was confident enough to move into her own establishment. She had a very respectable chaperone, but she no longer moved in elite circles, except as a portrait painter.

  Not that her portraits were confined to elite circles. The former Miss Muir came from Scotland to London to have Georgiana paint her portrait, though a disagreement arose between them. Georgiana wanted to do it for free, in return for her place in the carriage, but the former Miss Muir wanted to pay. Georgiana won that argument, but Mr. and Mrs. Muir showed the portrait to some friends of theirs, who hired Georgiana for a portrait. This, in turn, led to several commissions for portraits.

  Georgiana’s capital had become hers when she turned twenty-five, and she’d saved enough of her income to increase it. He’d feared she would be foolish about money, but she’d turned out to be very wise. Oddly enough, Mr. Bennet, who’d never managed to save a great deal of money, had persuaded Georgiana to save. She once told Darcy that Mr. Bennet had pointed out saving her money made her independent.

  Her wealth and utter lack of concern about her role in society made her more independent than he liked. Yet it seemed to be good for her. He loved his competent, confident sister who was a gifted portrait painter.

  A knock sounded. “Enter,” Darcy called, knowing it was Mr. Greyson.

  A servant entered. Mr. Greyson was announced and shown in. Darcy stood to greet him, then gestured that they should be seated. He retook his place behind his desk. As Mr. Greyson sat across from him, Darcy was aware Georgiana’s suitor was uncomfortable.

  Darcy wanted to put him at ease, so he made the effort to speak first, as Elizabeth recommended he do in such situations. “My sister said to expect you.”

  “Yes.” Greyson cleared his throat. “She also said she would tell you to explain something that happened to her eleven years ago.” He gave Darcy a perplexed look. “Whatever it is, why can’t she tell me?”

  Darcy’s smile was wry. “In a way, she’s making a point. To me, not you.”

  Mr. Greyson shook his head, still looking confused. “She and I are . . . close. If this has to do with her, I would prefer if she tell me.”

  “I made her swear never to tell anyone. She won’t break her word.” Darcy had to respect that. He also guessed Georgiana took some satisfaction in making him tell a secret he’d forbade her to, then shared without her permission. True, he’s only shared it with Mr. Bennet and Mrs. Bingley, very trustworthy people, but he’d shared it, nonetheless. He also knew that Elizabeth shared it with the Gardiners, but he was confident they would never tell anyone, or even let Georgiana become aware that they knew. Sharing her secret was an old grudge between him and Georgiana, and one of few. “Before I do, I must ask for your word that what I’m going to tell you is confidential. You must promise not to reveal it to anyone.”

  “You have my word of honor. I would never do anything to harm Miss Darcy.”

  Darcy nodded. As accurately as he could, he told Georgiana’s tale. He didn’t minimize her responsibility, but did mention her youth, since at fifteen there was some excuse for her lack of wisdom. He stopped the story at the point where Georgiana reached Pemberley. Darcy didn’t see any reason to bring up Elizabeth’s time at the inn, Wickham’s attack, the duel or their hasty marriage.

  Mr. Greyson was silent for a long moment. “Thank you for telling me,” he finally said. “I would like to marry Miss Darcy.”

  “Even after learning the truth?” Darcy asked. He wasn’t surprised, but he wanted to be certain this man loved his sister as much as she deserved.

  “Georgia . . . that is, Miss Darcy already confessed that she no longer has her maidenly virtue.” Mr. Greyson looked down, shaking his head. “I suspected as much. In truth, I’m partly to blame. All those years ago, I could tell Mr. Wickham was up to no good. I tried to warn her, but I should have written you or . . .” he trailed off, shrugging. “It seems to me there was more I could have done.”

  It was Darcy’s turn to shake his head. “You are not to blame. It was my responsibility to keep Georgiana safe. You were there to teach her to draw and paint, which you did admirably.”

  Mr. Greyson’s expression transformed to one of nearly fervent adoration. “Yes, she’s amazing. Truly gifted. I could see such a spark in her, as I’ve known in no other. How fortunate for her, for the world, that you are a man who would permit your sister to nurture her talent into full bloom, not try to browbeat her love of art from her.”

  Darcy contained a grimace. More like Georgiana was a woman who wouldn’t permit herself to be browbeaten, as Mr. Greyson put it. “She deserves all the credit, and you, of course. All those years ago, you laid the foundation for the skill she has now.”

  Greyson gave a modest shrug. “I only taught her the fundamentals.” His eyes narrowed. “If the question is not too presumptuous, what did happen to Mr. Wickham?”

  “He went t
oo far,” Darcy said, offering a grim smile.

  “Too far?”

  “He was so dismayed over the loss of Georgiana’s dowry, he attempted revenge.”

  Mr. Greyson offered a shocked look. “I trust he did no lasting harm?”

  “He did not. I consider it a family matter, you understand?”

  “I will treat it as such.”

  “Mr. Wickham knew it would be difficult to approach me, since I am well protected. My wife’s family was not so well protected. We don’t know exactly what he intended, but we believe he wanted to enact revenge by seducing one of her younger sister. Possibly he intended to marry her, which would have forced me to at least partially accept him. Possibly he simply intended to ruin her. We’ll never know as, fortunately, Mr. Bennet recognized him from Georgiana’s portraits of him and he was exposed. I’d already taken it upon myself to gather a list of his transgressions. He was transported to Australia. When his sentence was up, I wanted to find out what happened to him for my own peace of mind. I made inquiries. He married and was working as a clerk in Australia three years ago. He doesn’t earn enough to pay his fare to England. It is very unlikely he will ever return.”

  “I can’t say I’m sorry he is half a world away.”

  “Neither am I, and Georgiana was particularly pleased with the news.”

  Mr. Greyson nodded. “Which reminds me, you should be asking me if I can support her, and the answer is yes. My family almost disowned me when I became an art instructor, but they didn’t completely. I make enough from my paintings and my teaching to support myself, but I also have a small income that we can live on, if necessary.”