To Capture Mr. Darcy, a Pride and Prejudice Variation Novel

by Elizabeth Ann West

  “You say your sister is very nearly well and plans to join us this evening?” Mr. Bingley eagerly engaged Elizabeth sitting to his right.

  “Indeed,” Elizabeth paused to stab a candied carrot and held the bite in mid-air before continuing to answer, “she has sworn me to assist her and wishes to thank you and Miss Bingley for the generous hospitality you have offered us both.” Greedily, she devoured the carrot in hopes of discouraging further inquiries on the topic of her sister.

  “We are the lucky ones, are we not Caroline, to enjoy such fine visitors to our home!” Bingley beamed with pride, a young man’s exuberance over his first home and impromptu house party shining in his eyes.

  “Charles, I do not think Miss Bennet and Miss Eliza would revel in visiting under such circumstances.” Caroline shuddered, drawing attention to her lower neckline that Elizabeth swore stuck out with greater prominence once she had finished shimmying. As Caroline gave a sidelong glance at Mr. Darcy to see if he noticed, which he had not as he was still watching Elizabeth most intently, she scowled. The play acting was nearly too much for Elizabeth and she hastily ate another bite of food to keep from giggling at the dinner table.

  Mr. Bingley’s face faded to a frown. Dinner continued and by the third course, Elizabeth began to pity Mr. Darcy. Feeling bold, she decided to attract Caroline’s barbs. Miss Bingley was no match for Elizabeth’s patience, as the London woman’s manners and behavior lent her no credit in Elizabeth’s book.

  “Miss Bingley, I wish to thank you for ordering roses for my pleasure tonight. I did not know confessing my favorite bloom would inspire such changes to the decor. I am happy the hothouses at Netherfield are still under good management.”

  “Miss Eliza, you are not the only person present with an affection for roses. As you said yourself, it is a common favorite, and just so happens to be my favorite flower, also.” Caroline beamed at Darcy, who coughed.

  “But I thought you loved orchids. We had to order so many specifically at your request when we arrived . . .” Charles began to say until his sister glared at him with the fury of a thousand angry hornets.

  “Everyone knows orchids are in fashion, but my true love has always been roses.” Caroline glanced again at Mr. Darcy on her right, who continued to stare straight ahead.

  “Hrmph, when’s the next course?” Mr. Hurst grumbled.

  “Dear, the fowl just arrived, but the parsnips should be as you prefer them.” Louisa Hurst placated her husband and took another sip of her wine. Her husband belched and squirmed, forcing Elizabeth to look down quickly at her plate before she lost her placid expression to a fit of laughter.

  Dinner continued with more scraping of plates and silverware and as conversation swirled around her, Elizabeth imagined a melody of dinnertime symphony, brought to an audience by hundreds of patrons merely eating their meal. When Mrs. Hurst placed a gentle hand on Elizabeth’s arm, she looked up trying to hide her confusion.

  “I beg your pardon,” she frantically looked to find who had spoken to her. Mr. Darcy wiped his mouth with his napkin.

  “I asked if you travel very often, Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy’s eyes were soft and genuine as he focused only on her.

  Elizabeth Bennet wrinkled up her nose and smiled, intrigued to see a small smile creep on the taciturn Mr. Darcy’s face. “I’m afraid not. My sister and I often go to London to visit our aunt and uncle. But I confess my father is not very keen on travel you see, so that is the extent of my knowledge of our country.”

  “But you would desire to see more?” he asked, bringing Elizabeth’s gaze to his own, his husky voice making the simple inquiry sound so much more personal to her ears.

  “Ye-yes, I would dearly love to travel and see more of the world I have only read about in books.” Elizabeth blushed slightly and hastily reached for her glass of wine, wishing dearly she was not alone with these mere acquaintances.

  “Tell us about your aunt and uncle, dear Miss Eliza? Is this the barrister and his wife or the ones in trade?” Caroline asked sweetly while her brother Charles dropped his fork with a clatter at his sister’s impertinence.

  “Caroline!”

  “No, ’tis quite alright Mr. Bingley, I am not ashamed of my relations. My aunt and uncle Gardiner reside in Cheapside and my uncle is an importer of fine luxury goods.”

  “A lucrative and risky business these days thanks to the puffed up egos on the Continent,” Mr. Hurst added.

  Elizabeth nodded and began to feel peppered from all sides. In the battle of the dinner table, she sat surrounded by foes with not a friend in sight. Until a deep baritone voice again joined the fray.

  “For myself, I find men and women with roots in a trade always to have the most sense. My father and Bingley’s father were good friends as my estate’s wool fed his weavers. I abhor the airs and arts of snobbery.” Mr. Darcy raised his wine glass in a minor toast to Elizabeth’s relations, again making the poor woman blush.

  So conflicted in her thoughts and feelings, Elizabeth looked down at her hands in her lap and wondered what to say. Meanwhile, a vegetable course arrived, and Miss Bingley began a new topic of conversation centered on balls and theaters they had all attended, save Elizabeth, in London during the last Season.

  With a deep breath, Elizabeth continued to eat her meal and by the time the last course arrived, she finally felt brave enough to glance up at Mr. Darcy with a face full of gratitude.

  To Fitzwilliam Darcy, the sight of Miss Elizabeth’s bright eyes and wine-kissed lips formed in a tender smile directed at him intensified the romantic glow of the dwindling tapers. The sight arrested his heart so violently; the pain nearly made him react. Was this the throes of passion the poets talked of when they spoke of pangs and strains of one’s heartstrings?

  Not trusting himself, he quickly looked down to inspect the remnants of his meal and practiced taking metered breaths. Soon the sexes would separate and with any luck, he would clear his head of the beautiful and charming woman sitting across from him. Frantically, he tried to devise a way to retire early, but finding none, resolved he could keep his emotions under a good regulation for another hour. He had no choice in the matter.

  Later that evening, after they all joined for an hour’s visit in the parlor, Jane’s energy began to wane. Elizabeth helped her sister upstairs, but as they reached the hall, she felt another tug on her conscience.

  “Do you mind terribly waiting right here? I shan’t be but a moment, I need a new novel to read.” Elizabeth asked her elder sister earnestly. Jane laughed at Elizabeth’s insatiable love of books and agreed to wait while she dashed into the library so long as she would be quick.

  The library held a few candles burning in their holders, and it appeared the servants had set up a tray of cigars and brandy for the gentlemen before they retired for the evening. Elizabeth tiptoed to the large, darkened window, watching her eery reflection grow smaller and smaller as she neared the table and the chessboard.

  Black’s move played perfectly into her hands and she could see where in three moves, she would be mated. Thankfully, her plan mated her opponent in two. With another fleeting thrill of wickedness, she moved her queen to her final space, hoping to wake in the morning to one final move and her triumph. The timing would be perfect as she and Jane planned to leave on the morrow. Something about Mr. Bingley’s friend unnerved Elizabeth, and she decided the sooner they were free of one another’s company the better.

  Twirling around on the spot, she managed to keep her joy under good regulation and slowly opened the library doors to hear her sister speaking to a man in the hall.

  “Yes, it was lovely to have your company this evening, Jane. I am dreadfully sorry you were taken so ill. Perhaps in the morning you might consent to a stroll in the gardens if your health allows it?”

  “Yes, Mr. Bingley, I believe I shall muster the strength for a short walk,”

  “Please,” Elizabeth spied Mr. Bingley bowing over Jane’s hand, “call me Charles. All of my
friends do.”

  Elizabeth heard her sister giggle and took it as a cue to enter the hallway as conspicuously as she could. She should have narrowed her eyes at Charles Bingley for taking such liberties with her sister, but in truth, Elizabeth was overjoyed!

  “And after our walk, hopefully, Mama will have sent the carriage if I write her as soon as we wake.”

  “Lizzie!” Jane admonished, “We do not have to rush home on the morrow. Mr. Bingley was just telling me how he would like for us to stay at least one more day.”

  Elizabeth frowned. Staying one more day did not work for her plans, nor did she desire enduring the rude company of the Bingley sisters or the quixotic behavior of Mr. Darcy. But Jane stood there with her eyes so full of hope, denying her extra time with her amiable Mr. Bingley seemed cruel and unnecessary.

  “Oh very well, you have persuaded me. I am sure after your walk tomorrow, you will find yourself in need of a healthy rest and too weak to travel home, what was I thinking?” Elizabeth tucked her lower lip under her top lip to keep her laugh at bay, but Mr. Bingley laughed out loud at her faux manipulations.

  “Remind me to never enter a game of wits with you, Miss Elizabeth.”

  For a moment, all appeared perfect. The three of them enjoyed the brief unspoken loyalty to a plan of keeping the Bennets as houseguests at least one day longer when the parlor door slid open, and Caroline poked her head out the door.

  “Charles, where– oh, I thought you had both retired to bed. I did not know we were holding tete-a-tetes in the hall . . .”

  Bingley didn’t take his eyes off Jane as he answered his sister. “Forgive me, sister, I did not mean to hold up the card game. I was just wishing Miss Bennet and her sister a good night.” Charles took the extra opportunity to bow once more over Jane’s hand as Elizabeth nudged Jane away towards the stairs.

  “Good night again, Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley. Pleasant evening to you both,” Elizabeth called out in a hollow voice as she ushered her love-struck sister upstairs.

  As the two made it to Jane’s bedroom and flopped on the bed, Lizzie couldn’t help but giggle as Jane stared serenely at the ceiling above them.

  “Well if he is not wholly in love with you, then I am pickled.”

  “Stop it, Lizzie, he is a good man. I do not know what to think.”

  “Of course, you do. He is going to take you for your walk and gaze deeply into your eyes and then he will ask you to marry him and we shall all be saved and I will never have to wed!”

  Jane rolled over to face her sister properly and frowned. “You are too harsh on yourself, certainly you will marry. What of Mr. Bingley’s friend, Mr. Darcy? I noticed he spoke to you a great deal this evening and watched you intently.”

  “Yes, discourse on what makes a proper lady accomplished, very flattering and flirtatious conversation. No, that man is cross, taciturn, and I do not care for how he stares at me constantly to find fault. It is unnerving.” Elizabeth errantly pulled the pins from her hair as they began to give her a dreadful headache. Her mind flittered to the few times when Mr. Darcy’s kindness had appeared, both on the walk and at dinner, but her good sense forced them away. The man may not be as bad as the first night he insulted her at the assembly, but neither was he a man she could esteem.

  “I am not so sure; Mr. Bingley asked me a few questions tonight about your thoughts on him. I told him how you were insulted at the assembly by his comments.”

  “You did not! Oh, Jane! I wish you had not shared such a mortifying experience with Mr. Bingley!” Dramatically, Elizabeth covered her face with her arm like a heroine in a novel, overacting her embarrassment in an attempt to hide that she truly was embarrassed by her sister’s admission.

  Jane rose and pulled a clean shift from her trunk. She gazed at her sister thoughtfully before speaking. Knowing she should not have spoken of such matters with Charles, but finding herself so peaceful, so comfortable in his presence her tongue could speak no lies and certainly no artifice. “I apologize; it was not meanly done.”

  Elizabeth huffed and threw her arms up and forward to propel herself off the bed. “I know, you do not do anything with a mean spirit, I just do not want Mr. Darcy to think I’m heartsick over the ordeal, waiting for an apology.”

  Jane tilted her head to one side, still holding the shift in one hand. “Charles would not tell him.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Get enough drink in any men and they cackle like hens.”

  Elizabeth pecked her sister on the cheek and wished her a good night, running her fingers through her loosened hair to shake it free one last time. Making a face at her sister as she opened the door and backed out of the room, she quickly shut the door when her posterior bumped directly into someone in the hall.

  She turned to find herself much too close to none other than Mr. Darcy!

  “Oh, heavens! I am terribly sorry.” She tried to move to the right, but so did he, and they bumped again. Both adjusted to the left for the same result. Finally, Mr. Darcy’s strong hands gripped her upper arms with pure masculine confidence and shifted her to his left, her right, while he moved decidedly in the opposite direction. After he released her, Elizabeth’s arms still tingled as if his warm hands remained. Mr. Darcy bowed low.

  “I believe the fault was equally mine. I beg your pardon and wish you a good evening, Miss Elizabeth.”

  Then he walked away, further down the hall to his suite of rooms in the other wing. Elizabeth stood stunned she had just accosted Mr. Darcy with her person, completely unintentionally, and he disappeared just as suddenly into the shadows. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the hall to her room and questioned her earlier agreement for one more day spent at Netherfield.

  Down the hall, Fitzwilliam Darcy accepted the help of his man to undress and retire for the evening. He attempted to read a book by the fire but found his mind much too distracted. With a yawn, he laid on the bed with the comfort that in the morning, the Bennet sisters would be on their way home. Therefore, there was no harm if he allowed his mind to fixate on a pair of fine, bright eyes with silky chestnut hair flowing free and wild about her person. As he closed his eyes, his fingers twitched at the thought of touching such hair and the woman of his dreams shivering in delight.

  Two

  November 16, 1811

  Her fourth day at Netherfield Park dawned, and Elizabeth Bennet stretched and yawned. Feeling genuine longing to keep the tightly roped bed and overstuffed mattress she had enjoyed in residence, she laughed out loud at the bright sunlight pouring into the lovely guest room. One brief stay at a large estate and she had become snobbish in her delights! Her familiar bed at home performed more than adequately if not as luxurious as the offerings of Mr. Bingley’s income provided.

  A knock on the door startled Elizabeth, and she involuntarily snatched the surrounding sheets.

  “Yes?” she asked, unsure of who might knock on her door at this early hour.

  “Miss?” A maid gently opened the door no more than a few inches and popped in her head. “Do you require assistance this morning?”

  Elizabeth grinned and nodded, surprised that it had taken this long before the staff at Netherfield was instructed to help the Bennet sisters. At home, there was one maid to share with all four of her sisters and most days, Elizabeth Bennet was content to dress herself. Mesmerized by the hairstyle the maid pinned on her head — a style she would only deign to wear to a special event with a few pearl pins or flowers tucked — she smiled at the young woman. The maid tried to hide her smile before quickly nodding a curtsy and leaving the room.

  A grumble in her stomach twisted Elizabeth’s lips into a most unflattering expression, and she decided to break her fast before her morning constitutional. She found the house eerily quiet but shrugged her shoulders at the still sleeping Londoners keeping town hours. She entered the breakfast parlor and carefully closed the door behind her, gasping as she turned to find Mr. Darcy happily sipping coffee and reading the morning’s paper. Mr. Darcy hastily sto
od and nodded to her.

  He cleared his throat. “Good morning. I trust you slept well, Miss Elizabeth?”

  Reminded of her heavenly thoughts about the quality of bed she enjoyed, she smiled. To her surprise, Mr. Darcy smiled back at her!

  “Yes, quite well. Thank you for concern, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth blushed as she busied herself making a plate. Once finished, she faced a dilemma. She did not care to sit next to Mr. Darcy, nor did she wish to offend the man by sitting too far away. Sighing, she resigned herself to sitting across from him, one chair down, as a compromise.

  For many long minutes the two did not speak. Elizabeth enjoyed her meal and Mr. Darcy, his paper. Kept in her thoughts, Elizabeth carefully planned her day. After breakfast, she would check on Jane and convince her they might still walk with Mr. Bingley and take the carriage home in the afternoon. November was apt to bring nasty weather, and it would not please Elizabeth one bit to be stuck at Netherfield for more days than she had already visited. Her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Darcy’s laughter.

  Quizzically, she arched an eyebrow at the man, surprised by his sudden deep baritone chuckles.

  “Pardon me, Miss Elizabeth, I merely read an amusing tale and lost my composure.”

  “Oh, I am afraid I cannot pardon you, sir. You must pay the penalty of sharing your joke for I dearly love to laugh.”

  The sweet challenge from her lips inflamed Darcy’s sensibilities and once more he felt the magnetic attraction to this beautiful and witty Bennet creature. She was not docile; she was not timid. Both qualities spoke to his own proclivities and represented a rare form of the female in his experience. “I should never suspend your pleasure, Miss Elizabeth. I laugh because my cousin played a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse with a lady, and I believe he is shocked to learn that it was he who was the mouse the entire time.”

  “That is amusing. But I worry, will your cousin suffer greatly for his mistake? Or is the lady in question an honorable one that will make him a good match?”