A Certain Something
~
Cassandra B. Leigh
A Certain Something
~
Cassandra B. Leigh
What if Elizabeth Bennet had the ability to detect lies? You know those lies we all tell from time to time—some are innocent and some are whoppers! In this story, Elizabeth can see the grey murky air around the people who spin their web of lies.
Let us explore the deception abounding in Pride and Prejudice. Mrs. Bennets’ boastfulness. Caroline’s false flattery. Collins’s sycophantic praises. Lady Catherine’s claims of an infant betrothal. Wickham! How would Elizabeth’s ‘gift’ change the story?
This sweet, clean Pride and Prejudice variation begins on the night of the Meryton assembly.
A Certain Something
Copyright © 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced by any means, except for brief extracts for the purpose of review, without my written permission.
The characters 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.
Cover Art: SelfPubBookCovers.com/ FrozenStar
Table of 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
About the Author
Books by Cassandra B. Leigh
A Certain Something
Chapter 1
October 1811
“She is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”
Elizabeth Bennet had been enjoying the evening at the Meryton assembly, right up until the moment she overheard that uncivil remark directed at herself. For lack of a dance partner during the last two sets, she had been observing the festivities from the edge of the dance floor. Two newcomers to the neighbourhood had been discussing the women in attendance. Mr Darcy of Derbyshire had uttered the stinging insult without bothering to lower his voice, which was well within her hearing.
Her closest friend Charlotte Lucas had also heard the entire exchange and reached for her hand. “Oh, Lizzy, how perfectly horrid!” she said, her expression a mix of distaste and sympathy. “He is no gentleman.”
Elizabeth took no offence. “Never mind, Charlotte. He is lying,” she said. Charlotte gasped as they watched the man turn on his heel and stalk away.
Since her childhood, Elizabeth had been able to discern when someone was being truthful or not. At first, she’d thought everyone had the same ability. When people lied, the signs were all clearly visible by their shifty eyes, elevated voice timbre, twitching brow, pursed lips, or rigid posture. Those were only a few indicators, but no one else seemed to have her gift, as some called it.
Perhaps she was more perceptive than others, or perhaps it was something more, like the vague grey mist surrounding the deceiver. Although, whether or not it was truly a gift was debatable. There might be some advantage with friends and family, especially when there was a dispute to be won; however, Elizabeth took little enjoyment from discovering the deceptions of strangers. “There is no truth to his statement; I doubt he meant to be unkind,” she said, hoping to reassure her friend.
A puzzled crease appeared in Charlotte’s brow. “Why would he say such a despicable thing?” she said, then her eyes flew open wide. “Could he have meant the opposite?”
Dear Charlotte, her staunchest defender, was in constant search of potential matches for them—no small endeavour in this tiny community. With so many marriageable ladies and so few eligible prospects, making new acquaintances was their only hope of finding husbands. These two gentlemen were the first to visit their neighbourhood in the past few months.
The other gentleman in question, Mr Bingley, had already proven himself to be amiable with the most pleasing manners. Besides being handsome and cheerful, he was also an excellent dancer; nothing else could be wanted in a young man. He had requested introductions to everyone in attendance and had already danced three sets. Mr Darcy, on the other hand, had refused all introductions and only danced with the two ladies in their party, Mr Bingley’s sisters.
Elizabeth delighted in the absurd, and nothing could be more so than this proud, conceited man. How could anyone be so disagreeable while in the midst of such joyous comradery? In the highest spirits, she repeated the story to her friends. “I must have offended Mr Darcy,” she said with a merry giggle.
“Does he really think you are not handsome, Lizzy?” her sister Mary asked. Elizabeth’s gift was well known in the neighbourhood, and no one dared tempt her with falsehoods for fear of exposure.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Perhaps he is merely out of sorts.” She suggested that the gentleman should be given another chance to prove himself worthy of their friendship. The grey mist that had lingered around him for a scant second convinced her that he had meant nothing untoward.
Charlotte’s brother John scowled. “You are better off if he dislikes you, Lizzy. He is too proud for you.”
During the course of the evening, Mr Darcy did nothing to disprove that theory. He paced at the back of the room, appearing disgruntled, as though he were above company. Elizabeth’s mother and aunt Phillips were furious with him for his disparaging remarks, and others complained of his ill-bred manners. His considerable income—ten thousand pounds a year—had been whispered around the ballroom by the matrons; however, even this was not enough to improve their poor opinions of him.
While the rest of the community held a general disdain for Mr Darcy, Elizabeth decided to forgive him for his poor performance. After all, Mr Bingley could not be so imprudent to claim an ill-mannered creature as his friend. Something must have provoked Mr Darcy to incivility. Mr Bingley, however, had won every lady’s heart that evening by dancing every set, including two with Elizabeth’s elder sister, Jane.
Later that night, after the candles had been extinguished, Jane extolled Mr Bingley’s virtues. “He is everything a young man ought to be.”
Elizabeth was not surprised by her sister’s good opinion of Mr Bingley; he was handsome and well mannered. Jane’s good nature even allowed her to excuse Mr Darcy for disparaging Elizabeth’s appearance. “He should not have made such an offensive remark, but he did not mean it, after all,” Jane said.
Elizabeth teased her tender-hearted sister. “Oh, Jane. Can you find nothing to criticise? Is all the world good in your eyes?”
“Of course, he should not have lied, Lizzy, but it can only mean he finds you the most handsome woman in all of England!”
Elizabeth doubted that assessment, but they agreed on one point: Mr Darcy was a bit of a mystery—one she would not mind solving.
At breakfast the next morning, the family discussed their night at the assembly. Although the topic had been fully explored upon their return home the previous night, Elizabeth’s two younger sisters were still in transports over their success. “I danced every set, Mama,” Lydia said, gleaming with pride, while Catherine echoed her enthusiastic agreement.
Mrs Bennet wore an indulgent smile. “Yes, my dear,
you and Kitty did very well, but Jane made an even better conquest. I knew she would catch Mr Bingley’s eye; did I not say so, Mr Bennet?” she said, to which her husband grunted with annoyance. Balls and assemblies held no appeal for him, nor did any discussion of them afterwards. “But why his friend chose to insult Lizzy, I cannot imagine. Not handsome enough to dance with,” she said with an irritated huff. “I grant you, she is not as pretty as Jane, but everyone knows our daughters are the prettiest in all of Hertfordshire.”
“He did not mean it, Mama,” Elizabeth said, then, hoping to acquit the gentleman of further scorn, she mentioned the fleeting grey mist she had observed.
A hush fell over the room as Mrs Bennet stared agape, her eyes blinking in astonishment. When pressed for an explanation, Elizabeth relayed what she had observed in the gentleman’s air and mannerisms. The family had long come to rely on her interpretations and offered no contradiction.
“Dear Lord!” Mrs Bennet cried in amazement. “We have been doubly blessed, Mr Bennet. Two gentlemen at Netherfield have taken notice of our daughters.”
Elizabeth baulked at her mother’s assumptions. “You forget, Mama; Mr Darcy refused all introductions and danced with no one outside his own party.”
However, Mrs Bennet seemed not to hear. “Mark my words, Mr Bennet, we shall have two daughters married erelong.”
While her younger sisters giggled, Elizabeth and Jane both groaned in response to their headstrong mother’s ambitious prediction. Due to the entail on Longbourn, Mrs Bennet’s main occupation was to find husbands for her daughters, and Elizabeth knew her mother would not relent until she had proven her point. Although well accustomed to her mother’s mortifying pronouncements, this one had the potential to become even more troublesome.
Chapter 2
Fitzwilliam Darcy gritted his teeth. If the Meryton assembly a few nights ago had not been bad enough, Charles Bingley expected him to accompany him to Lucas Lodge after supper. “Passing another evening in such society would be insupportable,” Darcy said, hoping to dissuade his friend from the idea.
“I have already accepted Sir William’s invitation. We cannot offend him and Lady Lucas,” Bingley said with his usual hopeful expression. Darcy would not wish to disappoint him, but visiting the elderly couple held little appeal. “Sir William has visited me twice, and I must return the civility, as you well know, Darcy. I shall not allow my neighbours to form a poor opinion of me.”
Suppressing a groan, Darcy acquiesced and Bingley ran off to advise his sisters of the plan.
While Darcy admired Bingley’s easy, unaffected manners, he did not share an eagerness to please people he barely knew. The other night at the assembly, the hall had been filled to overflowing with people from every walk of life: landowners, merchants, and, if he was not mistaken, even farmers had been in attendance. The matchmaking mothers had been out in full force, hovering nearby and circulating reports of Darcy’s annual income. Whispers of ten thousand a year had echoed around him as he’d passed through their midst.
Born into a noble family, Darcy had every reason to be proud of his fortune, but hearing it repeated from every corner of the room had set him on edge. He had been expected to dance with Bingley’s two sisters that night, and for propriety’s sake, he had obliged them; he could not decline to dance with his hostesses at an assembly. However, dancing with anyone else would have encouraged every insipid maiden in the hall, and that Darcy could not allow. He had politely declined every request for an introduction. He knew all too well that every gentleman had the responsibility to dance with any young lady in want of a partner; that requirement had been drummed into him from a young age. But now, at the age of eight and twenty, and having danced with hundreds of marriageable ladies over the years, he had no desire to favour the daughters of the local butcher, grocer, innkeeper, and Lord knows who else.
His ultimate responsibility was to his family, especially his sixteen-year-old sister, Georgiana. In order for her to marry well, he needed to forge an alliance with a respectable family. As master of his own fortune, a connection to a woman of lesser standing would degrade his own. For Georgiana’s sake, he would only consider a woman of the first circles. Unfortunately, this small village in the wilds of Hertfordshire boasted no such families.
Charles Bingley’s sisters, Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst, had also been appalled by the boisterous mood at the assembly. Darcy could well imagine that they had never been exposed to such unrefined company in the London drawing rooms they frequented. Although, he could not fathom why Caroline aspired to Darcy’s station; she had made her ambitions well known where Darcy was concerned. Her fawning attentions had raised his ire on more than one occasion, but rather than insulting Bingley by giving his presumptuous sister a proper set-down, he preferred to ignore her. Despite her delusions, under no circumstances would a tradesman’s daughter be mistress of Pemberley, his ancestral home in Derbyshire.
When the Bingley party entered Lucas Lodge that night and greeted their hosts, Bingley’s unabashed enthusiasm inspired no similar elation in Darcy’s breast. Although a smaller gathering than the assembly, this company existed of many of the same people he had seen there. One lady in particular had caught Bingley’s attention; Miss Jane Bennet’s beauty far surpassed all other women in this community. She and four other ladies, whom Darcy supposed were her sisters, were enjoying the attentions of a few militia officers.
Darcy noticed one of the sisters, a lovely brown-haired lady with an easy smile and a pleasing figure. Recalling her from the night of the assembly, he moved closer and was struck by the uncommon brilliance of her dark eyes. Upon overhearing their conversation, he learned her name: Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
***
Elizabeth marvelled at Mr Darcy’s apparent interest in her discussion with Charlotte, quite a reversal from their previous meeting. Hovering nearby, he assumed none of the insufferable airs he had displayed at the assembly but appeared relaxed and approachable. After exchanging polite civilities with him, she intended to tease him about eavesdropping on their conversation, but Charlotte thwarted her by inviting her to play the pianoforte. Taking her friend’s hint, Elizabeth abandoned the effort and applied herself to music instead. After playing two songs, Elizabeth relinquished the instrument to her sister Mary, who played a sombre concerto.
As Mary played, Elizabeth watched Mr Bingley’s sisters whispering to each other and wondered what they were saying. From their stern expressions, she imagined that they found no enjoyment in the evening’s entertainment. She had heard that the sisters had been educated at one of the finest seminaries in London and assumed they were accustomed to more refined company and performances. As on the night of the assembly, the two ladies spoke only to each other.
When Mary began playing a Scottish air, the mood took a lively turn, and her sisters danced with the other guests. Bingley was in good spirits, laughing as he performed his steps, as he had done at the assembly. Content to watch the dancers, Elizabeth tapped her feet in time to the merry music. Glancing around the room, she noticed that Sir William had cornered poor Mr Darcy near the refreshment table, undoubtedly peppering him with endless questions. Hoping to rescue him from the kind but tiresome man, she wandered to the punch bowl to refill her cup.
Sir William immediately took up her hand. “My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing?” he said with a merry chuckle, then turned to Darcy. “Sir, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a desirable dance partner.” He held out her hand as though he meant to offer it to Darcy. “You cannot deny me the pleasure of seeing you perform.”
Mortified, Elizabeth withdrew her hand from his grasp. “Please, Sir William, I entreat you not to suppose I came this way to beg for a partner.”
Darcy surprised her by asking for the honour of her hand.
“You are all politeness, Mr Darcy, but you need not oblige our host if you are not so inclined,” she said, supposing he would defer to Sir William’s whims. In no way did
she intend to force Darcy to dance. However, he repeated his request and extended his hand to her. His warm, engaging smile, so unlike his sombre countenance at the assembly, convinced her of his sincerity, and she accepted. Although this was not quite how she had planned on wresting the gentleman from Sir William’s grasp, this method proved effective nonetheless.
They joined in the dancing. While Darcy showed no similar enthusiasm as his friend, he did appear to be in good spirits that evening. Elizabeth could find no fault with his dancing; his steps were precise and his attention never faltered.
After the dancing had ended, she sat with her sisters to listen to Charlotte perform a sonata with her sister. During this performance, Elizabeth observed Miss Bingley standing close to Mr Darcy, her expression bland as they quietly conversed, but then something he said must have amused her. She smiled gleefully as she spoke, but he seemed to take no notice of her, keeping his eyes fixed on Elizabeth instead.
She felt the heat rise to her face at his determined gaze and forced herself to look away. Were they talking about her? She avoided glancing in his direction again, and when the Netherfield party rose to take their leave, Mr Darcy bade her good night with all the civility of a well-mannered gentleman. Thoroughly confounded by his altered behaviour, Elizabeth resolved to think of him no more.
Chapter 3
Darcy had to admit, despite his earlier protests, he had enjoyed himself at Lucas Lodge. Elizabeth Bennet had caught his particular attention. He considered an infatuation with her as no more than a pleasant diversion while visiting Netherfield. Certainly, there could be no harm in a mild flirtation with a pretty woman. She had much to admire, after all: her fine eyes, curvaceous form, and playful demeanour would inspire any man’s appreciation.
Of course, he had said quite the opposite the first time he had seen her. At the time, Bingley’s insistence that he dance at the assembly had forced the barbed deflection, which had the intended result: Bingley made no further demands of him that evening. If anyone was to blame for Elizabeth being caught in the cross fire, it must certainly be Bingley for forcing Darcy to take drastic measures.
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