At Last: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Anne Morris

  On the night that the publication, John Williamson, and his wife, Elizabeth, had been murdered, Murphy had been seen drinking in the pub house, and he had one or two visitors. It was such a small place that visitors' comings and goings were noted. Murphy was known to an eye witness, John Turner, who had only escaped by rising from his bed, knotting his bedsheets together and escaping through an upper floor window, practically naked, which had left many a young lady giggling and blushing over such a detail.

  Murphy had often stopped by the King's Arms to drink, and often had a number of the same acquaintance with him on those evenings. One had been a rogue, but another had been an equally charming man. For Murphy had been a golden-haired fellow who was known to be popular with the ladies, and when a second gentleman showed up, it often had any young woman under the age of thirty all a-smiles because of their joint, amiable nature. But it was not this charming man, but the limp-legged rogue who was the second suspect now being hunted by the River Thames Police and the Bow Street Runners.

  Mr. Bennet was ready to call off the entire Scarborough trip—its bother and expense—once he heard the news that John Murphy had committed suicide, as he felt that the entire escapade of the two sets of murders had been laid to rest; the suspect had been captured and was now dead. There had been no reasons laid out by the authorities for the murders of the seven people, including that small infant, but Mr. Bennet put it down to a man mad in the head, and was willing leave it there, to let it be. He assumed that the River Thames Police Force had captured and imprisoned the correct person. In fact, the courts were to go ahead with the trial anyways, even though the suspect was dead, and to try him after death, though John Murphy could not defend himself.

  Mr. Bennet felt they had their man, there was no more to fear, and hence there was no reason to be running off to Scarborough. His three daughters, who had gone with the Gardiners, might enjoy some time away from home, but there was no reason for him to leave the sanctity of his library or his house.

  Mrs. Bennet complained of her shattered nerves, and that she still needed rest and relaxation elsewhere. Lydia felt she ought to be entitled to get away since Jane, Mary, and Catherine had been permitted to do that. Lydia had tasted a little of society since her father had allowed her bits and pieces of it, and it was entirely unfair for Catherine to go to a watering hole like Mudeford and to enjoy herself, if she could not get away as well—even if Scarborough was not so distinguished a place as Weyford or Brighton. She was equally adamant in her complaints as Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth was ever practical about all of this; they had planned to go so they should go. Certain servants had looked forward to the break afforded by the house being closed up; some, like Mr. and Mrs. Hill, were to go with them to Scarborough, but others were to have a holiday of their own.

  Also, Simon knew about the plans, and he quite liked the idea of going to the sea. He knew that he had been born there, and while he most often played army he imagined himself as a sailor, and his play now involved being part of the navy, of being a naval officer on a ship, and he quite liked the idea of visiting the seaside. One day, he told Mr. Bennet that and it was perhaps the idea of disappointing Simon more than anything else, that got Mr. Bennet to agree to allow them to go. He said he would escort them and then return to his study and enjoy a peace and quiet he had not known at Longbourn in twenty-five years.

  10

  —

  Scarborough

  The journey was not pleasant, what with Mrs. Bennet's nerves and fears. Elizabeth found she was called on to do a lot for her mother during their trip to help soothe and relieve those nerves, while Mrs. Bennet fretted about the roads, accommodations, bandits, and about hers and everyone else's health as they made the long trip to Scarborough.

  Simon was bored and cross after being confined to the carriage, which did not help with everyone's mood. Lydia was, thankfully, not one normally subject to sullenness if others in her family were irritable. Mr. Bennet seemed not to be affected or had not let it bother him. As soon as they were settled that first day (and having left a wilting, tired. and ill-tempered Mrs. Bennet at the inn) they wrapped up against the wind and set off: Mr. Bennet, Simon, Elizabeth, Lydia and Miss Simnel, to see the sights.

  Simon wanted to race ahead, but was checked back by the three adults in the party. Lydia had eyes for the shop windows, and the delights to be found within, there was an array of treasures to tempt the fifteen year old: ribbon, fabrics, ready-made bonnets and sweets. She followed the party at the end, with slower feet, as she peered at these pleasures. Elizabeth paused to wait for her while the others stripped ahead.

  "We shall have plenty of time to shop, Lydia," said Elizabeth.

  "There are so many beautiful hats; I should love to have a new hat, Lizzy," sighed Lydia.

  "I have no doubt you shall get one, dearest." Rather than hurrying her along, this made Lydia slow down even more as she began to contemplate new purchases as they walked closer to the shore and the sand.

  Simon's mood improved quickly as soon as he saw sand and sea, as it proved all that he imagined and wished. Simon was just as excited at the prospects for this trip as Lydia was, and he began racing around with those heavy-footed steps that the sand gave one as he ran across the beach. Elizabeth and Lydia walked up to where the walkway ended and became the shore, and watched him while he frisked with joy on the sands and up to the water's edge.

  It was at that point that the adults wondered about a wave coming upon him unexpectedly. Elizabeth and Lydia called to him to come away—they both remembered their previous trip and the unexpected nature of the waves, despite their beauty. Even though Lydia had only been eight at the time, she still recalled her time at the sea, and the sights and sounds before her brought back a multitude of new memories.

  Simon did not heed his sisters' voices or the governess' which was added to it, he stood at the waterline and watched the waves moving back and forth until a slightly more powerful one came crashing in suddenly to wet his feet and ankles, and all three women sprinted forward as the young master of Longbourn simply stood in shock as his shoes and stockings got wet. Miss Simnel hesitated and waited for the water to retreat, but Elizabeth darted in, one hand lifting her skirts up slightly, to snatch Simon's hand and pull him farther up the beach to safety.

  "That was cold!" he cried, laughing all the same, "and fun! I cannot wait to go bathing in the sea."

  "You need to be more careful Simon! The sea can be powerful and cruel," said Miss Simnel looking down at him. "I will forbid you to go unless you agree to mind your betters." He pouted then, his lower lip stuck out—he and Lydia looking remarkably alike when they did—and Simon looked over to his father appealing to him with his eyes. Mr. Bennet frowned as though caught. He seemed as though wishing to indulge Simon's antics, but did understand he would be leaving Scarborough and it would, perhaps, be unfair to undermine the governess' authority.

  "Mind Miss Simnel now," said Mr. Bennet though with a certain delighted tone in his voice. They began to return to the inn with two of their number wet, what with Simon's shoes and Elizabeth's damp skirts, and walking slowly.

  Scarborough had been a small port town; it had a natural harbor with a certain important location on the eastern coast before a natural spring had been discovered by a Mrs. Farrer in the early seventeenth century, and at the beginning of the next century it had slowly turned into a fashionable retreat. The Prince Regent's penchant for sea bathing also added another dimension to the delights of the town, though the port still had traffic in and out every day as fisherman plied their trade. There was a medieval fortress in the form of a castle, plus barracks that housed army troops. It was a bustling city and far larger than Meryton.

  Mr. Bennet went ahead, eager now to be settled himself, and the rest of them kept up their slow pace. They had almost reached their inn; they had but to wind around two corners, when they turned off of one street, and Elizabeth stopped short as Mr. Darcy stood before her, a young woman on his ar
m.

  "Miss Bennet!" he cried in surprise, stopping before their party.

  "Mr. Darcy!" she replied in turn. The two groups stood not moving or giving way, but neither speaking for a few moments. The three ladies and Simon stood looking at them, and Elizabeth was about to simply nod to Mr. Darcy and his companion, and continue on their way, when he spoke again.

  "Miss Bennet, Miss Lydia, Master Simon, may I present my sister, Georgiana Darcy."

  Elizabeth was surprised by the request and the introduction, and greeted the new acquaintance with great curiosity. Georgiana Darcy was slightly taller than Elizabeth but not as tall as her sister Lydia. She had the same dark coloring as her brother though her eyes were a brighter color, perhaps a green, or a muddy blue.

  "How do you do," called out the young woman with a curtsy. Her eyes trailed over the group taking in the boy's wet shoes, and Elizabeth's wet hem; she pursed her lips. They skipped over Miss Simnel entirely, dismissing her in their group as though someone not worth knowing—her brother had not introduced her—and alighted on the one young person of like age.

  "Miss Lydia, do you dip?" asked Miss Darcy pointedly.

  "I shall be trying it as soon as the weather permits," said Lydia. "I recall enjoying the beach ever so much when we were last here."

  "Oh! You have visited Scarborough before? Are you a frequent visitor?" asked Miss Darcy, a smile breaking over her face.

  "Not for a long time, many years," Lydia evaded, but there was something, some spark that appeared to have been inflamed between these two young ladies.

  "Perhaps, when the weather turns, we might enjoy all of the delights together," said Miss Darcy. She turned to her brother. "You have Miss Lydia's particulars, brother?"

  Mr. Darcy looked down at his sister then across at Lydia Bennet, finally alighting his eyes on Miss Bennet's face. His own face was unintelligible, but Elizabeth could only imagine his revulsion at his sister seeking an acquaintance with such a lady—one to whom he had strong objections. He, no doubt, was wishing he had not stopped to speak to Elizabeth and her party, or had not run into the Bennet family in the first place.

  "I have not the pleasure of knowing where the Bennet family is staying," said Mr. Darcy.

  "We are at the Three Mariners Inn are we not, Lizzy?" declared Lydia, not realizing the impropriety of sharing her directions with a gentleman.

  "We look forward to seeing you again," called Miss Darcy. The brother and sister departed.

  "Lizzy!" cried Lydia as soon as the pair was out of earshot, "I think I am ready to think better of Mr. Darcy if he has such a charming sister. I look forward to trying the water with her." Elizabeth was not sure what to say to that declaration. They made their way back to the inn to change.

  • • •

  Mr. Bennet was amazed to hear about their encounter; he, like most of their Meryton neighbors, had a poor opinion of Mr. Darcy, and he seemed to not think much of the meeting or of the possibilities afforded his family by Lydia developing any sort of acquaintance with Mr. Darcy's sister. Lydia, however, was enthusiastic about these possibilities. She began to paint a picture of their future friendship as a sure thing. It was as if she placed such little value in Elizabeth's society and the prospects of her company while they were away from home—that Elizabeth was too set in her ways, or too motherly to Lydia to be an appropriate companion.

  A small house was duly obtained for them; 'Silver House' fit their now smaller family. His wife had an opinion—a negative one—about the new accommodations, but she also began to sound more like her usual self, to shed the dazed look, and to complain less about her fractured nerves.

  Mrs. Bennet was always vocal; she always had something to say. Mr. Bennet had to admit that the events in London last month had affected her, and though the majority of the time he dismissed her complaints if she mentioned her nerves, he had to admit that her health had been affected. There was pallor in her face, and darkness around her eyes, and when he truly thought about it she actually spoke less than she normally did. He felt like he was faced with a dilemma, should he wish her to fully recover and to go back to talking just as much?

  A few days before he returned to Longbourn, Mr. Darcy and his sister came to call. His youngest daughter was ecstatic about the visit. It was a short visit, and Lydia and Mr. Darcy's sister had done the majority of the talking, helped along by his wife. It surprised Mr. Bennet to observe his Lizzy, whom he always believed to be far more social, sitting largely silent during that morning visit; neither did Mr. Darcy speak much—not that Mr. Bennet expected the proud and distant Mr. Darcy to do so.

  When the visitors left, there was a lot of discussion about the possibilities of this new acquaintance, and he thought that his family's time in Scarborough would be pleasing to them—his wife, Lydia and Simon, at least, would be well satisfied.

  • • •

  She could not forget their last encounter at Netherfield Hall when they had bantered back and forth on the dance floor, and then to have that followed by Mr. Wickham's accusations about Mr. Darcy's dreadful actions in denying Wickham his livelihood, but in a manner that also dishonored his Mr. Darcy's father. Mr. Darcy was, by his own admission, an unforgiving man; he had pulled Bingley from Jane's side, sneered at her family for their follies, yet faltered in their discussion of his—and her—faults that evening. She was simply unsure that she wished to socialize with him.

  Elizabeth was of two minds about the success of this trip with the addition of the Darcy family into their society. She had, back in Hertfordshire, imagined a short stay of a few weeks to allow her mother to settle her nerves, and for them all to be reacquainted with Scarborough. Such a trip had to be pleasant for Lydia and Simon. Lydia, who had been here as a child and played in the sand, could enjoy the delights Scarborough afforded any young person, and what six year old does not love an adventure to the sea?

  Elizabeth had thought, hoped really, that the meeting with Mr. Darcy would be an aberration—perhaps he had been so surprised to see her and her family that he had not known what to do but to introduce Elizabeth and her family to his sister. He could have nodded and walked on but he had not, and he seemed to have introduced two like-minded young ladies.

  Lydia could not live without society, quite like their mother, and the society of a young woman her own age and temperament was just what she wished for. That first encounter with Miss Darcy had sent Lydia into ecstasies of delight at the idea of this new acquaintance, but afterward Elizabeth had attempted to suggest to Lydia the idea that they might not meet again given what she knew of Mr. Darcy's general dislike for her family and society in general. When the Darcys had come to call, those inklings of affection and regard blossomed, and the friendship between the two young ladies was solidified. Elizabeth was faced with a conundrum. There were so many others of her acquaintance she would wish to be visiting Scarborough than Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth thought of the perverse luck she was having, all the while listening to Lydia's ecstatic proclamations of her wishes for this new acquaintance.

  • • •

  Her nerves had not been so shattered in years, thought Mrs. Bennet. The constant palpitations of her heart kept her in her room, often in bed, and she felt disinclined to do much of anything. and wished mainly to be able to rest in her sitting room, and recover from the horrid news out of London. For once, she had to agree with Bennet as to the ugliness of life in London. She was therefore cross with her husband as to his wish to review a few schools for their son, so long as they were in Scarborough. It would be years before they would pull Simon from the nursery and send him off to school, besides, not every son needed to be sent away. Some could continue to be taught at home by their governesses, or a suitable tutor might be found. Maria Lucas' Mr. Legget had found extra work tutoring some local boys. Mrs. Bennet did not see why Simon must be sent away to a school, but as Bennet had done that very thing it seemed he wished the same for Simon.

  So Mrs. Bennet was obliged to get out of bed and dress
, and to accompany her husband to see the sort of schools that Scarborough had to offer. This day, they were to see a small one, a schoolmaster who took in boarding students, some as young as Simon was already, and who stayed with him up through their majority. Mr. Spencer's establishment was a fine home. He was the son of a gentleman, but a second son, and had somehow chosen to take up the profession of enlightening young minds.

  The schoolmaster was a tall man, plain and exceedingly thin, sporting a stern face since he often was faced with a room full of mischievous boys. Mrs. Bennet viewed the man with suspicion which was unusual for her—a feeling she often did not wield towards a single gentleman—but she found herself in the unusual position of having mixed feelings about the man because of her son. She did not wish Simon to go away; Simon was too young to even be considered for this venture and that won the day. Mr. Spencer was to be suspected.

  She expressed, not though words, but through her manner and temperament, how unhappy she was about the Spencer Establishment for Boys, and the idea of sending Simon there. Lately, Mr. Bennet had not taken her views or feelings to heart, but he seemed to recognize how she was feeling, and the visit was cut short.

  • • •

  Her father left Scarborough and returned to Longbourn. Elizabeth could well imagine Mr. Bennet enjoying the house, his solitude and his books. She had to admit that Mrs. Bennet was happy to have him go. Her mother had been displeased with Mr. Bennet's school visits—though there had only been three. Elizabeth had been of like mind with her mother on this subject, that it was years too early to be considering such establishments.

  They were to imbibe the waters at the Spa that day—so long as they were in Scarborough, they should take in all the health-inducing benefits that the town offered. Lydia was excited to go, but then Lydia was always excited.