At Last: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Anne Morris

  "I believe you should go to see him," said Elizabeth with her usual directness. "It is to be a short trip, is it not?"

  "Yes, he has only asked me to come for a fortnight, and my father is to come with me. We are to stay with him so the expense of it will be slight," explained Charlotte.

  "I believe you should go," pressed her friend.

  And accordingly, Charlotte did go. Sir William and his daughter went to Kent, and Elizabeth waited for letters from Charlotte to see how she fared.

  • • •

  It took all of March for the neighborhood to exhaust Mrs. Bennet on the subject of their visit to Scarborough. Every time she visited an acquaintance, friend, or neighbor, Scarborough was the topic of conversation, it was discussed each visit, and at length.

  The Bennet sisters were ecstatic to be together again. Though they had been faithful correspondents, particularly the two oldest, there was much to be shared once they were back under the eaves of Longbourn and sharing meals together.

  Christchurch had been excessively wet, as the sisters had often written, but despite the inclement weather, the watering hole of Mudeford had had its share of delights to temp them. Mudeford, like any community, had assembly balls, and they had arrived in time to partake of the first one in January. All three women had enjoyed it, meeting many new acquaintance, and for Mary and Catherine, meeting new gentlemen.

  Jane, when she spoke about her time away, spoke with delight at the time with her aunt, cousins and sisters, but with less appreciation of new friends. Elizabeth could tell she still nursed tender feelings for Mr. Bingley, and though her sister did not speak of him outright, Elizabeth knew he was often in Jane's thoughts by the distracted looks and sighs her sister displayed. Having never fancied herself in love before, Jane's regard for Mr. Bingley had all the warmth of a first attachment, and her age, and her very disposition gave it a steadiness not often seen with first love. While the younger sisters fell in and out of love frequently, Jane was steadfast in her fond remembrances of his good nature, cheerful character, and pleasing manners. Though she wished at some level to not be so affected, she could only recall him fondly and not with regret.

  Mary had been the one who had benefited the most by their visit; away from the often hurtful remarks of her mother, she had blossomed by being able to present herself in a place where her mother's remarks—comparing her plain face to her sisters' beauty—did not hinder her, and where her own nature and accomplishments were able to shine. She had an admirer for the first time, and had been reluctant to return home.

  Catherine had enjoyed herself in what seemed a more general way, never without a partner, happy if simply at a dance, always running into acquaintance whenever the weather permitted a walk, but without any singular event to point to, or exclaim over, when asked about her time away from Longbourn. Kitty had made one or two friends with whom she promised to correspond—friends she had often been strolling, giggling, and gossiping with when out walking. Elizabeth wondered if she would keep the acquaintance by maintaining the correspondence. All three sisters had been most grateful to Mrs. Gardiner and to Mrs. Perkins for their trip away from home.

  • • •

  A letter from Charlotte was longer coming from Kent to Hertfordshire than Elizabeth supposed, and she worried that things were not as Charlotte had imagined or wished; and after reading the letter, she found that it was because the visit was of a nature that neither one of them could have predicted.

  Dear Elizabeth,

  Forgive me for not putting pen to paper sooner, but my visit with my uncle, Mr. Wilding, has gone well. Let me assure you at once, and state how much I appreciate your kind support in encouraging me to come to Kent for this visit. And believe me that your encouragement held more weight than that of any member of my family. Mr. Wilding lives well, and has a beautiful little house in Kent."

  And here Charlotte felt inclined to describe his house, and all of the beauties to be found in it, in some detail, and as she read, Elizabeth wondered that she had not yet mentioned her uncle. Charlotte did soon come to that point:

  We have discussed, before I left, the fact that I wondered why he chose this moment to contact me, and you said to me that perhaps, in his later years, he was seeking family. You are correct in this, Eliza. Mr. Wilding is quite ill, and, in fact, has said that he is dying. He wishes to leave me some money, in fact, to make me his heir. His business has done well; his business is as a sort of procurer for wool between those who sell, and those who buy, and while he means to leave the business to his principal clerk, but he feels, as I am family, that he should leave me something since he has been successful in life, and has set aside money, and intends to leave me a dowry of eight or nine thousand pounds.

  Here Elizabeth set aside the letter to contemplate what such a change would mean to Charlotte's circumstances. Charlotte, who had claimed she would never marry, and admitted to being plain, would likely have both the security of her own fortune now, but would likely attract the attentions of gentlemen. Charlotte, who also often mentioned that she did not hold men in high esteem, and had often said that there were not very many worthy men to meet, would now be faced with a multitude of changes. Elizabeth read on.

  I do not quite know what to do, and whether or not to accept such a gift. My father has eagerly pressed me to accept it. I do rely on his advice, my father has always been all that is goodness, but it makes me feel sad as I consider my poor sisters, especially the case of Maria, who is still not able to marry because the five hundred pounds my father is able to give her is not enough to allow her and Mr. Legget to marry. It seems grossly unfair for me to be bestowed with such a huge sum, when Maria and Susan have so little. We have decided to extend our visit, though I do not know how long my father will stay and can be away from home. I will write more later.

  Elizabeth felt that she could not but be happy for her friend, though she could understand that it meant great changes in her circumstances when Charlotte, like Elizabeth, had come to know a certain rhythm to her life, a certain predictability about it, and would not now know what the future would be like. It certainly seemed as though Charlotte did not know how quickly she would even been returning to Hertfordshire.

  Mr. Wilding was more ill than Charlotte let on, or knew about, for her next letter informed Elizabeth of his passing. Sir William was helping with the funeral arrangements, and meeting with the attorneys about the estate. But it had been settled that her uncle had made her one of his heirs. Charlotte wrote that she had argued, and her uncle had agreed, to give a small portion of the money he was to settled on Charlotte to her sisters—even though they were not his nieces—thinking that the nine thousand that Mr. Wilding was settling on her would be more than sufficient, so he had agreed to give a thousand to each sister, and settled seven thousand on Charlotte. Charlotte, of course, was thinking entirely of her golden haired sister who, with fifteen hundred dollars to her name, might finally marry and not have to wait any longer.

  • • •

  Darcy threw himself into the estate work that he had claimed as an excuse for their returning a week earlier than planned to Pemberley. The new roofs on the outlying cottages were seen to, personally, by him as he rode around the estate, which gave him time to both think over his encounter with Miss Bennet, and to avoid Georgiana and her criticisms of their hasty departure, and her complaints about being torn from her friend's side.

  Early March is not the best time to attempt repairs, with the weather being quite unpredictable, and the carpenters and thatchers faced complications as rain fell on a number of successive days, creating difficulties with half-mended roofs. Tempers flared, and he eventually conceded the project to his steward, Mr. Green, and stepped back from taking a personal role in the project.

  Why? Why would Elizabeth Bennet reject him? Why would any woman reject him? He had mulled that question over repeatedly in the weeks he rode around Pemberley, or as he sat in his study, attempting work, but most often lost in thou
ght.

  He was the superior between them; he had money, ten thousand pounds a year, compared to her thousand pound dowry, which would only bring, at 4 percent, forty pounds a year, hardly a comparison. His uncle was an earl; Elizabeth's uncle was in trade in London. There still was no comparison. He had a great-uncle who had been a judge; her other uncle was a country attorney—he of the tufty ears. Darcy shuddered at that memory. There was simply no logical reason for Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn to reject a proposal of marriage from him—any other woman, any of those giggling girls that he had filled his drawing room with that Tuesday evening would have jumped at the chance—and yet she had not. Not only had she turned him down, he had never been spoken to by a woman in such a way. She had given him a long list of reasons as to his unsuitableness.

  He thought about Wickham; he did not know what he would ever say about Wickham, because he did not know what Wickham had told Elizabeth. He had always resented George, but never in his life had he resented him more than now. He could only imagine what Wickham had said to Elizabeth that day of the Netherfield ball while the pair sat at the supper table, with the blackguard telling lie after lie, probably a story about injustices against Wickham by Darcy. It was probably what had set her off on this path of dislike. The stories that Wickham told changed so often that it was difficult to keep track of all of them.

  At first, there had been tales about brutalities when they were boys together, brutalities Darcy had acted against Wickham because Wickham had been a favorite of his father. That Fitzwilliam Darcy, motivated by jealousy, had taken to beating Wickham when no one was looking. No one suspected the master's son (so asserted George), so Darcy was never to be punished. It was a point that was both stimulating and hard to prove, and had often garnered Wickham a sympathetic audience.

  And in later years, these tales included ones of seductions by Darcy of women of all classes, including his own cousin Anne, as if that had somehow accounted for her poor health. But then, once his father had passed away, the stories were most often about Darcy's resentment taking a turn of such proportions that he had denied Wickham his just due according to the terms of his late father's will, the legacy that was to be given Wickham by the late Mr. Darcy.

  Given that Elizabeth was a gentleman's daughter, Darcy suspected that the tales were of a more decent and demure nature, limited to the deprivation of his livelihood, and why George Wickham had been reduced to his present impoverished circumstances, rather than living the life of a gentleman as was his due. Darcy scoffed at such a thought because Wickham was the son of a steward. Old Mr. Wickham had become a steward because he been an attorney. He had been good with finances, good with management, and it was interesting that his son inherited none of his father's skills other than a love of money. Wickham had a disinterest in having to work for it.

  For a week, even longer, Darcy fumed, and ranted to himself, or the study walls about this old adversary, Wickham, in denying him his bride, in spreading such rumors that it would turn Elizabeth's head away from him. He realized at some point that he had moved from the realm of the logical into one of sensibility when he realized he was spending so much time being resentful and angry that his love and desire for Elizabeth Bennet had been defeated.

  Darcy spent many days thinking about the fact that such a woman could turn his head and change the way that he normally functioned in the world, from a cool-headed and logical man, to a man of feeling in considering his choice of bride—though she was not his bride, she had resoundingly rejected him.

  He considered the problem of his sister and Lydia Bennet. Elizabeth had accused him of contradictory behavior. He had bristled at her assertion that there were different 'rules' when it came to his sister and to himself that would permit him to align himself with Elizabeth Bennet, but that he would check his sister's friendship with Lydia Bennet.

  For a long time, he did not allow the assertion to be correct. He spent time going over arguments in his head about why it was reasonable to propose marriage to Elizabeth, who short of her family's connections and her dowry was a decent choice. Her behavior was superior; he had never found it wanting, and in fact, her intelligence made her exceptional. It had been permissible for him to have proposed marriage. There was more latitude allowed to gentlemen, it was not so harmful for a gentlemen to align himself to a lady with lower connections, while a lady should always seek to obtain higher connections, which was why he had always assumed she was waiting for his proposal. For what lady would not wish to align herself with someone of his station and wealth? Ladies should always look up and never consider any sort of connections that would bring them disgrace or display any sort of conduct that would bring them censure.

  For a number of days, he argued with himself that Georgiana, who came from a higher station, needed to always associate with people of equal rank, but then he thought back to the dinner party. He thought of the contrast between the conversation of those twittering and rather silly young ladies whom he had invited—with the idea that they were more appropriate acquaintance than Lydia Bennet—and yet he could not abide their society. He realized his own arrogance and was mortified at his behavior.

  Really, what he should seek were well-informed companions for his sister, and though Lydia's behavior was less than desirable, yet Lydia, who was interesting in her own way, also had an intelligent and witty sister. It was possible that Lydia Bennet would grow into the mold that had been created in the Bennet household, the one displayed by both Elizabeth and Jane Bennet.

  Her last assertion had been that he had not acted like a gentleman, that in her eyes, she did not view him as a gentleman, and that had pained him the most. Those words tortured him more than anything else she had said. He could not allow them justice; he was a gentleman born and bred. She had to be blind not to see it. For a long time, his bitterness over her words made him rancorous and unreasonable. But a gentleman is measured by his actions, and in this case, another person had found his actions wanting. He had to look again at both those actions and himself.

  Elizabeth Bennet had rejected him most assuredly. He considered whether she would ever speak to him again. Darcy thought about how to address all of the points she had made during their encounter and how he would address each point with her—he could not call it a proposal any longer as she had not accepted him.

  If his friend, that young pup, was successful in wooing Jane Bennet, and there was to be a wedding (and he imagined he would be invited), Darcy would be able to see Elizabeth again. But what sort of reunion would there be between them, and would she speak to him? She had asserted that his manners were poor, but would she act the same in such a situation? Refuse to speak to him? Snub him? He had never more wished for Bingley's happiness that he might receive a letter inviting him to a wedding that it might give Darcy another chance at success, another chance at speaking to Elizabeth Bennet to argue his points.

  • • •

  He kept returning to the question of why would she reject him? It is was not logical that she would, though he could understand that Wickham could poison her against him, but surely all that he had to offer had to have some merit. And as March rolled by, he considered that there might be other reasons besides those that she had stated. Perhaps there was some other reason because there had to be some logical reason for her to reject him. It made no sense to him otherwise.

  He wondered about Wolton-Fane, and despite her assurances that the secretary was merely an acquaintance, Darcy considered that there seemed to have been a mutual admiration between the two of them—he had assuredly seen the same sort of admiration for Elizabeth on Wolton-Fane's face that he had felt within. Had not Elizabeth and Wolton-Fane met up in the mornings, just as he and Elizabeth had met in the mornings? Darcy had always felt that there was more depth to their relationship than she admitted to, with her evasive answers.

  Darcy took the time to craft a letter to Mr. Peterson. He asked about Mr. Wolton-Fane and was surprised when Mr. Peterson wrote to
say he was losing his efficient secretary as Wolton-Fane had decided to stand for office in his local constituency and had given notice to Peterson.

  He won't succeed, he's not married. He needs a good woman by his side. Nobody, but nobody votes for a bachelor.

  Darcy wondered if Wolton-Fane was so much in love with Elizabeth Bennet that he would propose to her on such a short acquaintance, but had not his friend Bingley felt the same way about Jane Bennet? Men married after short acquaintances, and such things happened at watering holes. But Darcy could not believe that Mr. Wolton-Fane was the type of man to marry quickly; he was more of a man to make such a decision thoughtfully, particularly if he had aspirations of a political nature. He seemed equally as cool headed and logical as Darcy.

  However, if Wolton-Fane had proposed to Elizabeth would someone inform Darcy about it? Darcy supposed it was possible that Wolton-Fane had, and there was an understanding between them; it was possible that it was something Darcy could not have heard about. Would Lydia know about it and write to Georgiana to share the news? For the two friends had been corresponding, but what if it was something a little more secretive?

  But Darcy could not reason himself into believing that Wolton-Fane would be seeking out Elizabeth Bennet as a bride. He admired her, to be sure, but he would not offer for her. It took him many sleepless nights of playing on his violin to work through those details. As much as he did not understand what had gone on between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Wolton-Fane, he had no real reason to suspect them of having a secret engagement.

  • • •

  March gave way to April, and all of his musings and revelations had to be set aside as he prepared, with his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, for his three week visit to Kent to his Aunt Catherine's residence, Rosings, The cousins left for their destination, and Darcy left Georgiana with Mrs. Younge at Pemberley. She had been reluctant to leave Scarborough when he whisked her away so hurriedly at the end of February, but she was unhappy now to be left with only with Mrs. Younge for company. However, she greatly disliked their aunt so did not wish to come to Kent.