by Sophia Grey
If I Were Mrs. Darcy…
A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Sophia Grey
Copyright © 2019 by Sophia Grey
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, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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
Also from Blue Flowers Press
1
Elizabeth Bennet awoke late that Friday morning in September dreading breakfast. She could already hear the noise of her younger sister as they moved about the house. Jane’s bed was already vacant and the autumn sunshine that fell across Elizabeth’s face served only to remind her that in addition to the misery of listening to the chatter over the breakfast table, she would also receive a lecture for her tardiness.
Elizabeth rolled over with a groan and pulled her coverlet up over her face. Last night’s assembly had been nothing short of a disaster.
Worse than a disaster.
She would not have minded that Mr. Darcy had declined to dance with her if he had done it in a more genteel manner. But the man had no manners whatsoever, and to embarrass her in front of so many of her friends… As far as she was concerned, Mr. Darcy could take his ten thousand pounds a year and leap into a lake fully clothed with it.
The bedroom door creaked open and Elizabeth peeked out from under her pillow. Her sister Jane stood in the doorway with an amused smile on her face. “Lizzy,” she whispered, “still abed? Mama is asking for you!” Jane came into the room and sat down on the edge of her sister’s bed. “I do not blame you for wanting to stay up here. Lydia will not be quiet no matter how many times she has been told to do so.”
“Oh, no,” Elizabeth moaned. “Is it that silly game?”
“I am afraid so,” Jane said grimly.
Elizabeth sat up and pushed her braid of dark hair over her shoulder. “We should never have told her about it.”
Jane smiled and tugged at the blankets to force her sister to get moving. “It was not our fault. Lydia is a cunning girl who listens in on conversations she should not.”
Elizabeth shivered and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The cold of the floor seeped through the rag rug she and Jane had made last winter and she grabbed for the shawl Jane held out to her. “Shall I ring for some washing water?” Jane asked helpfully.
Elizabeth nodded and wrapped the shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “It should not be this cold in September,” she said moodily.
Jane rose from the bed and pulled the cord that rang a little bell in the kitchen. “Lizzy,” she began carefully, “last night… You were not truly upset by Mr. Darcy’s words, were you?”
“No, truly I was not. I was—taken by surprise. That is all. For all his fortunes, Mr. Darcy has not a farthing’s worth of manners.” Elizabeth hoped that her smile was reassuring but Jane did not look convinced and Elizabeth decided to change the subject. She grabbed Jane’s hands and squeezed her fingers gently. “But what of your evening, Jane?” she teased. “I daresay the blush on your cheeks on the dance floor was not one of embarrassment.”
“Indeed not,” she said quietly.
There was a quiet knock at the door and the Bennet’s housekeeper backed across the threshold bearing a large jug of steaming water. “Miss Lizzy, you are up very late this morning,” she said as she bustled into the room and poured the water into the porcelain wash basin.
“Indeed I am, Hill,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “Do apologize to Mama for me,Jane, I will be down shortly.”
Jane followed the housekeeper out of the room but lingered for only a moment at the door. “Be prepared,” she said quickly, “Mama is in a fine mood this morning and she will want to talk of nothing but the assembly.”
“As I had expected,” Elizabeth sighed. With all five Bennet girls out in Hertfordshire society, every assembly was an opportunity for advancement. Elizabeth did not like the idea that her mother was scheming for one marriage match or another at every opportunity, but that was the unfortunate reality of their situation; and their mother.
Elizabeth washed her face and dressed her hair simply. Her feet were sore from dancing and her throat was sore from laughing, but her stomach also ached from the rich food and too much brandy punch. Perhaps Mr. Darcy and his cruel words were to blame for the consumption of a few more glasses of punch than she would normally indulge in, but Elizabeth was not one to pass blame along to those who did not deserve it.
Mr. Darcy, however, did deserve it.
Elizabeth set her hairbrush down upon the vanity with an angry snap. She could pretend that his words had not wounded her; but if she admitted the truth, they had.
“Not handsome enough to tempt him,” she muttered. She frowned at herself in the looking glass and then sighed heavily. Careless words such as those should have skimmed over her notice, something to be laughed at with Jane later when they were alone. But for some reason, those particular words had stamped themselves into her memory. If she could not marshal her emotions she would likely hear his disdainful voice in her nightmares.
“You are better than this, Lizzy,” she admonished herself quietly as she pinned another unruly curl firmly and wound a velvet ribbon around her head. They were expecting no guests today, but Mrs. Bennet had been decidedly unpredictable of late, and Elizabeth knew she would receive a scolding if she were not properly dressed.
A plain day dress that had been hemmed and re-ribboned one too many times would have to do, but as she pulled the garment over her head she resolved to ask her father for permission to buy a new dress. Asking her mother would do no good as Kitty and Lydia would likely crow and clamor for their own new clothes and nothing would ever be done about any of it. Mr. Bennet was a practical, but proud, man and Elizabeth knew that he would be more inclined to grant her request if she came to him privately.
She smoothed down her skirt and took one more look at her reflection before reluctantly abandoning the room she shared with Jane and descending the stairs to the main floor of the house. She bit back a groan as shouts of girlish laughter echoed through the house. Elizabeth peeked around the stairs to see her father’s study door shut tightly against the commotion and she smiled briefly before taking a deep breath as she walked into the breakfast room.
“Lizzy!” Kitty shouted and leapt up from her chair. “We thought you would never get out of bed!” She pushed Elizabeth to a chair and poured her a cup of tea which Elizabeth took gratefully. “You must play the game with us,” Kitty said breathlessly, “you always have the most wonderful things to say!”
Elizabeth gritted her teeth as she poured milk into her tea and stirred carefully. “I do not think I shall play today, Kitty,” she said firmly.
Lydia slapped her hand upon the table. “Come now, Kitty, it is my turn,” she interrupted. Kitty rushed to her chair as Mrs. Bennet fussed with her tea.
“Really, Lydia, have we not heard enough? We have heard this a thousand times already.” Mary stabbed at her scone with the butter as Lydia made a face.
“Mary is only jealous because she will never play this game with us.”
“Now, Lydia, do not be cruel,” Jane admonished. “Play if you must but do not provoke your sister.”
Lydia stuck out her tongue and then laced her fingers together around her teacup.
“If I were Mrs. Denny, we would ride out on a fine horse every Sunday.”
“Oh, Lydia, not in a carriage?” Kitty exclaimed.
“No, I shall ride with him upon his horse,” Lydia laughed.
“And will you wear his regimentals, too?” Mary muttered.
“I just may, Mary,” Lydia snapped. “And it would look very fine on me, too!”
Kitty glared at Mary and then patted Lydia’s hands. “Come now, what else,” Kitty urged.
Lydia straightened her shoulders and smiled. “If I were Mrs. Denny I would live in a fine little house with a housekeeper to cook my meals and a girl to wash my linens.”
“Oh, that sounds very fine indeed,” Kitty breathed. Elizabeth shook her head and sipped her tea. She winced as the heat burned her tongue, but it was good to get something warm into her stomach.
“And we would have you all for supper every week, but I would not come here because Hill does not make lamb the way my housekeeper would make lamb,” Lydia laughed.
Kitty sighed and pushed at the scone on her plate. “I should eat lamb every night if I could,” she said.
“You have not said it right,” Lydia chided and Kitty yelped as here sister kicked her under the table.
“Girls! I have had enough,” Mrs. Bennet said in an exasperated tone. “You will cease this at once, you are giving me a headache.” Kitty’s face fell and Lydia pouted and pushed away her teacup.
“Come, girls,” Jane said kindly. “Breakfast is finished. I should like to walk into Meryton—”
“Oh, yes!” Lydia cried as she jumped up from the table. “With the officers in town we might see Denny and the others!”
“Yes, Jane, take them away. Take them all away,” Mrs. Bennet cried and waved her handkerchief.
“I should like to stay,” Mary said stiffly, “I need nothing in town.”
“Mary, I cannot listen to your wretched playing this morning. You will go into town with your sisters and I will take no argument,” Mrs. Bennet said sharply.
Mary pressed her lips together and looked down at her tea. This happened far too often, and Elizabeth’s heart ached for her stoic younger sister. She laid a hand upon Mary’s arm. “We will go to Mr. Williams’ shop, Mary. Perhaps you will be glad of some new paper for your music.” Mary nodded shortly and got up from her chair.
Elizabeth finished her tea as Jane ushered the younger girls out of the room to fetch their shawls and bonnets. “Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet said suddenly and Elizabeth met her mother’s eyes. Mrs. Bennet smiled reassuringly. “You must not be upset that Jane has attracted the attention of a man such as Mr. Bingley. Mark my words, before Christmas we will be celebrating an engagement!” Elizabeth’s smile was tight as her mother chuckled to herself and stirred her tea. Her moment of comfort passed, Mrs. Bennet waved her daughter away with her handkerchief. “Now, be sure to tell Mr. Bennet that you are going into Meryton. Doubtless he will want some new ink for his wretched ledgers.”
“Of course, Mama,” Elizabeth replied.
“Always scribbling away,” she continued, but Elizabeth had already left the room and was knocking on the door to her father’s study.
* * *
“Have you escape the confines of the breakfast room unscathed?” Mr. Bennet asked without looking up from his ledger.
Elizabeth smiled and kissed her father on top of his balding head. “Mostly unscathed,” she confirmed. “We are walking to town, do you need anything?” She picked up one of her father’s shredded quill pens and examined it with a furrowed brow. “A new quill, perhaps?”
Mr. Bennet met his daughter’s critical eye and smiled as he leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I am rather hard on them, am I not?”
“You are, indeed,” Elizabeth agreed. She looked down at her father’s ledger, with his neat lettering filling each page, and frowned. “Is everything alright, Papa?”
Mr. Bennet smiled. “Nothing for your or your sisters to concern yourself with, Lizzy,” he said warmly, but Elizabeth could see strain behind his eyes. They were not a wealthy family, and a house full of daughters was not something any man wished for. Elizabeth had been trying not to dwell upon the fact that the men she and her sisters would marry could very well determine the health of their entire family. Jane was under the most pressure to make a good match, and Mrs. Bennet did not shy away from making sure they were all aware of it.
Mr. Bennet shooed her away, but Elizabeth fussed with her father’s tea and made sure that there was a fresh log upon the fire burning in the grate before she left him bent over his desk. A new quill and a new pot of ink would surely brighten his day.
Jane and the other girls were waiting impatiently in the courtyard, their breath fogged the crisp fall air and Elizabeth pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders as she hurried to catch up with them.
Mary took off at a sullen pace while Kitty and Lydia rushed ahead, shouting at crows and laughing wildly together. Elizabeth looped her arm through Jane’s as they fell into step and they walked in companionable silence for the briefest of moments.
“I hope you were not too angry last night,” Jane said softly.
“Angry? Whatever for?” She had told Jane about what Mr. Darcy had said, but she had laughed as she had told her story with the hope that Jane would not know how upset she had been.
Jane fixed her with a knowing glance but did not press the issue. Elizabeth took advantage of the silence and tightened her grip on Jane’s arm ever so slightly. “And you? You were very quiet last night. Full of thoughts of a certain someone with five thousand a year and a fine country house?” Jane laughed lightly and Elizabeth noticed the blush that crept up her sister’s cheeks. She was right, Jane’s thoughts had been preoccupied. “Well, come now… you know you have thought about it.”
Jane sighed. “I am not going to play this silly game, we should never have done it in the first place.” She looked meaningfully in the direction of their younger sisters and Elizabeth shook her head.
“It is not our fault that Lydia has bigger ears than she should.” She poked Jane in ribs gently. “Come now, tell me.”
Jane frowned briefly, but then here eyes brightened. “If I were Mrs. Bingley, we should have a house in London and keep Netherfield Park for Christmastide. We should have a ball every year and welcome all of Hertfordshire into our halls.”
“A very generous arrangement,” Elizabeth agreed solemnly.
“I would be great friends with his sisters, and they would introduce me to all of London society and give me advice on all of the newest fashions.”
“Of course.”
Jane was quiet for a moment and Elizabeth squeezed her arm gently. “If I were Mrs. Bingley,” Jane said softly, “I would be able to purchase Longbourn’s entailment, so Mama would never find herself without a home.”
“Oh, Jane,” Elizabeth said. “You really are the best of us.”
“But what about you?” Jane asked with a smile. “Your dance card was at least as full as mine.” Elizabeth laughed at her sister’s deft conversation change and she shook her head.
“My card may have been full, but my partners were decidedly less inspiring.”
“What about Mr. Lawrence?”
Elizabeth made a face. “If I were Mrs. Lawrence I should be forever wondering if anyone was speaking to me, or to his dear mama. I daresay she would never allow him to move out of of Holloway House.”
“Lizzy!” Jane gasped, but she smothered her laughter behind her hand and Elizabeth smiled. “You cannot be so cruel,” Jane admonished, “though I admit he does seem a little afraid of her.”
“I would be as well!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“The poor man,” Jane murmured.
“Poor man, indeed,” Elizabeth huffed. “I suspect he enjoys the attention. How could any wife keep up with that? No, indeed, I shall not imagine myself as the wife of poor Mr. Lawrence.”
“What of Mr. Atkinson? He looks very fine in his regimentals,” Jane offered.
“And Mr. Darcy…” Jane teased her.
“If I were Mrs. Darcy—no. I would never be Mrs. Darcy for if he ever asked I would never agree to it!”
“Lizzy, could you really refuse such a proposal? What would Mama say?”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together in a thin line and stared firmly at the road ahead of them. “Mama can say whatever she likes. I shall only marry for the very deepest love, Jane… and if first impressions are to be trusted, I daresay that Mr. Darcy’s manners will not inspire that in anyone. Especially me.”
Jane shook her head and called out to Lydia and Kitty who had somehow gotten too far ahead of them. Meryton was just over the next rise and Elizabeth took a deep breath of the crisp air.
Jane might frown and argue, but everything Elizabeth had said was true, and there was nothing that could make her change her mind once it was made up.
2
Still buzzing from the excitement of the assembly, Meryton’s streets were busy and full of color. The regiment’s arrival had injected new life into the town in every way possible. The Inn was crowded and officers of every shape, size, and degree of handsomeness, leaned against the whitewashed walls and marched through the streets with their fellows.
Lydia and Kitty could barely contain themselves as they called out to officers they had danced with the night before and Elizabeth could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the way her younger sister’s behaved. Lydia, as always, was the instigator but Kitty did not seem too upset to be dragged along behind.
