by Jennifer Joy
The Elizabeth Conspiracy
Jennifer Joy
"The Elizabeth Conspiracy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation"
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems — except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews — without permission in writing from its publisher, Jennifer Joy.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, locations, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Jennifer Joy
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Twitter: @JenJoywrites
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Copyright © 2017 Jennifer Joy
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1-944795-12-2
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Thank You!
About the Author
Other Books by Jennifer Joy
Chapter 1
Rosings Park, Kent
By what evil plan did birth and circumstance conspire to grant the most beautiful homes in England to the most disagreeable of its inhabitants? Elizabeth Bennet could not fathom a satisfactory answer, but felt the injustice of its prejudice fully as she walked through the loveliest park she ever had occasion to explore. The first blooms of spring promised fragrant blossoms in a tasteful array of color in stark contrast to Lady Catherine de Bourgh's gaudy display of wealth in her Rosings home. How different the humble flowers were to the haughty woman … and her equally proud nephew Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Elizabeth's shoulders tensed at the mere thought of his name.
Lady Catherine had made her disapproval of Elizabeth obvious the first night she had attended with her hosts, the Collinses, at Rosings. Elizabeth's uncles were in trade, and the tainted connection to the working class had lowered her in the great lady's eyes, as she made clear by her probing questions into the Bennet's family life. It had been one month ago now, but Elizabeth remembered the interrogation clearly.
"You do not play or sing? Unthinkable!" Oh, I assure you the idea is easy to grasp with a little imagination.
"You do not draw either? How is this possible?" Quite easily, your ladyship.
"Your mother never took you to London to benefit from the masters? How appalling!" What are men to rocks and mountains? I should rather learn from nature than a self-proclaimed master.
"You were raised without a governess? Five daughters without a governess? I have never heard of such a thing!" And now you have. I am honored to be the first lady of your acquaintance to have survived thus far without the guidance of a governess.
"What? All five of you are out in society? The younger ones before the elder are married? Very odd!" Did such a limited view promote sisterly affection between you and your younger sisters? I rather think not. Why should they be denied society's amusements and the pleasures of youth until the eldest are inclined to marry?
Growing defiant with Lady Catherine's list of impertinent questions, of which every answer Elizabeth gave fell short of the grand lady's expectations, Elizabeth's humor rose to her rescue when Lady Catherine inquired of her age.
With a saucy smile, she had answered, "With three younger sisters grown up, your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it."
Lady Catherine had gasped and huffed.
Miss de Bourgh, Lady Catherine's only daughter, had sighed and tapped her fingers against the table in boredom.
Mr. Collins, Lady Catherine's rector and the relative who would eventually inherit Elizabeth's childhood home, had followed Lady Catherine's lead (as he always did) to such a superlative degree, one of the servants had thought he had choked on his cream broth.
Only Charlotte — Mrs. Collins, as Elizabeth had to call her in public — had dared to smile (though she had sense enough to do so discreetly so as not to draw attention to herself).
A fortnight after that memorable dinner, Lady Catherine's nephews had arrived at Rosings. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was everything agreeable and charming, and Elizabeth enjoyed his company. She could not say the same for Mr. Darcy, who seemed determined to dampen any hint of gaiety in the room with his taciturn manners and surly expression.
Elizabeth shook her head, stretching her neck from side to side to ease the dull ache forming at the base of her skull. The day was too fine to spoil with unwelcome company … even if they were only in her mind. And so, she dismissed Mr. Darcy and his pompous aunt with another shake, determined to enjoy the gifts of spring in the beautifully kept park.
Sunshine poured through the tree canopy, casting playful shadows over the grass and melting the stiffness in Elizabeth's muscles. A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of early blooms and the musty earth through the air, reaching out with silky fingers to caress her cheeks and lift her bonnet enough to send a chill down her spine. She shivered and grasped the letter she held tightly in her hand as if her touch could warm her dear eldest sister's words.
Jane's last letter, though full of information meant to be lively about their London relatives with whom she currently resided, lacked her usual spirit. Jane had been in London for three months, and Mr. Bingley had not called. Elizabeth felt her sister's heartbreak in the forced cheer covering the pages.
Footsteps behind her, hushed by the thick carpet of grass, gave Elizabeth pause. Pressing her eyelids closed, she said a silent prayer that it not be Mr. Darcy. He had an uncanny way of interrupting her walks about the grounds.
Tucking Jane's letter away and forcing a smile, she turned and was relieved to see Colonel Fitzwilliam. Her smile grew in genuine pleasure.
The colonel grinned widely and in one elegant gesture, swept his hat off his head in a melodramatic bow. "Good day, Miss Bennet. I have been making the tour of the park as I generally do every year and intend to close it with a call at the parsonage. Are you going much farther?"
"No, I should have turned in a moment," Elizabeth answered, eager for a distraction from her weightier thoughts.
They walked toward the parsonage where she was staying with her cousin Mr. Collins and Charlotte.
"Do you leave Kent on Saturday?" she asked, desirous for news of Mr. Darcy's departure. Over a fortnight in his miserable company was sufficient for Elizabeth.
When they met, which was often, Mr. Darcy rarely spoke. He had certainly never apologized for his insult to her at the Meryton Assembly six months before, though a gentleman would have seen to it ages ago. Then again, a gentleman never would have looked her in the face as he had, and
said, "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men."
As if she had not had her pick of gentlemen with whom to dance!
Elizabeth had joked about it with her family at Longbourn. It had lessened the sting. But her vanity nursed a well-deserved grudge against Mr. Darcy, and the less she saw of him the better.
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at her askance. "Yes, we shall depart on Saturday … if Darcy does not put it off again. I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases."
Of course he did. A man so full of his own importance would take great pleasure in ordering others about, although why he should wish to extend his stay at Rosings was a mystery to Elizabeth. He did not seem to have a close attachment to his aunt or to Miss de Bourgh.
Something in Jane's letter came to mind at the colonel's mention of business. Miss Bingley had made it painfully clear that Mr. Darcy's sister was intended for Mr. Bingley. Miss Darcy's dowry would be far more generous than Jane's. Did Mr. Darcy see marriage as nothing more than a convenient business transaction, and would thus separate Mr. Bingley from Jane for his own sister? Given Mr. Darcy's pride, Elizabeth doubted he would condescend to allow his sister to marry into a family known to have earned their fortune in trade. Oh, the horror!
There only being one way to satisfy her curiosity on that particular point, Elizabeth said, "I imagine your cousin brought you with him chiefly for the sake of having somebody at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry to secure a lasting convenience of that kind. But perhaps his sister does as well for the present and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he likes with her. I daresay he will have a say in whom she marries?"
"Not so," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy."
That was not at all the reply she had expected, nor had he answered her question. But Elizabeth was intrigued and determined. "Are you, indeed? Pray, what sort of guardians do you make? Does your charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are sometimes a little difficult to manage. And if she has the true Darcy spirit, she may like to have her own way."
As she spoke, she noticed how intently he observed her.
"Why do you say that?" he asked with a stiff smile. Though he hid it under a guffaw, she heard the alarm in his tone.
Convinced she had touched on a sore subject very near the truth, she said reassuringly, "You need not be frightened. I can only base my assumptions on the conduct of my own youngest sisters. I have heard very little of Miss Darcy other than her being a great favorite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. Do you know them?"
"I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant gentleman-like man. He is a great friend of Darcy's."
"Oh, yes," Elizabeth said dryly. "Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley and takes a prodigious deal of care of him."
Colonel Fitzwilliam took her sarcasm kindly, or he chose to ignore it. With a chuckle, he said, "Care of him! Yes, I believe you are right. Darcy does take care of him in those points where Bingley most wants care. From something he told me in our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose Bingley was the person meant. It is all conjecture."
Now, she was getting somewhere. "What is it you mean?" she asked, sensing that the colonel's news had some bearing on Jane's current unhappy state.
"It is a circumstance which Darcy, of course, would not wish to be generally known. If it were to get round to the lady's family, it would be an unpleasant thing."
The hair on Elizabeth's arms stood on end. "You may depend upon my not mentioning it," she prompted with a small smile, clasping her hands together so the colonel would not see how they shook.
"What Darcy told me was merely that he congratulated himself on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage. Without mentioning names or any other particulars, I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort and from knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer."
Elizabeth's stomach twisted, and the wind chilled her to the bone. She folded her arms, one hand over the pocket containing Jane's letter as if swearing an oath to protect her absent sister's interests.
Slowing her breathing and her pace, Elizabeth feigned a disinterested attitude. It was not easily done — not when her whole body trembled in loathing toward one man. Mr. Darcy.
Chapter 2
"Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?" Elizabeth held her breath, straining her ears to hear over the buzzing sound vibrating between them.
"I understood there were some very strong objections against the lady."
Measuring her breaths against the nausea churning in her stomach, Elizabeth asked pointedly, "And what arts did he use to separate them?"
"He did not talk to me of his own arts," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "He only told me what I have now told you."
Elizabeth could not answer without giving herself away, and so she walked on, her heart swelling with indignation with every step. They passed the grove into a clearing offering a spectacular view of Lady Catherine's home — the home where Mr. Darcy currently resided. What had been impressive bathed in golden sunlight minutes ago was a contrast of blinding light shining off the glass and deep, foreboding shadows.
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked over at her. "You are very thoughtful."
She lowered her arms, shaking them at her sides to ease the tension stiffening her limbs. Her gratitude toward the colonel for revealing Mr. Darcy's true character — to know her unflattering assessment of him since their first meeting had been justified — gave her the strength to calm the bite in her tongue and remove her fingernails from her stinging palms before she replied.
"I am thinking of what you have been telling me. I cannot agree with your cousin's actions. Why was he to be the judge?" She flung her arm outward, wishing it were Mr. Darcy and not merely the air she struck.
"You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?"
"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend's inclination or why he felt himself capable of determining in what manner that friend was to be happy." Her words snapped with rebuke, and Colonel Fitzwilliam looked rather appalled.
Taking a deep breath and forcing her shoulders down, she continued in an airier tone, "But, as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case." Oh, how it pained her to admit as much when her heart had already weighed the evidence and found him condemned.
Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled. "That is not an unnatural surmise, but it does lessen the honor of my cousin's triumph very sadly."
Elizabeth understood his attempt to lighten the conversation and, not trusting herself to continue on the present subject without revealing too much, abruptly changed it until they reached the parsonage where Colonel Fitzwilliam was received warmly by Charlotte and Mr. Collins.
The colonel's call was brief, there being little in the way to converse with Mr. Collins and Elizabeth being too disturbed in her own mind to lend her normal liveliness.
Maria, Charlotte's younger sister, dedicated herself to smiling prettily (to the exclusion of conversation).
Charlotte did her best to soften the ridiculousness in her husband's excessive praise of his esteemed patroness and the improved looks of Miss de Bourgh. When he sermonized about the finer points of the running of Lady Catherine's household (of which he clearly was an expert … more so even than the great lady's own nephew), the colonel shifted his weight on his chair forward, seeking an opportunity to depart as soon as Mr. Collins gave him leave … or paused for breath.
Elizabeth made her way to her room before the front gate shut behind Colonel Fitzwilliam, eager to think
without interruption of the evils Mr. Darcy had committed against her most beloved sister (for Elizabeth knew for a certainty there could be no other gentleman in all of Christendom who would allow as much influence over himself as Mr. Bingley did Mr. Darcy). And to think she had credited Miss Bingley with his separation from Jane! She ought to have known a darker force was at work.
Had not Mr. Darcy's pride and vanity manifested themselves at their first meeting? She had been given sufficient motive to dislike him then, but, oh, how she despised him now! She could not think his name without the acidic taste of bile stinging her throat.
He had ruined every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world. At least, for a while. Elizabeth could not say how lasting the evil he had inflicted would last, but she would not rest until she found some way to undo his work. It would bring her pleasure to lift her sister up from the ashes of despair while watching him fall from the pedestal upon which he placed himself.
Charlotte's light knock on her door interrupted Elizabeth's schemes of reuniting Mr. Bingley to Jane.
"Lizzy? Are you quite well?" Charlotte asked, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.
Elizabeth stopped pacing to sit on her trunk at the end of her bed, Charlotte seating herself by the window opposite her.
Too full of vengeful thoughts and the need to act in behalf of Jane, Elizabeth picked at her fingers and fidgeted.
