by Kate Barton
Doubt and Division
A Pride and Prejudice Novella
Published by Kate Barton, 2020
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.
Kindle Edition
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter One
“Lizzy! We are almost there!”
Elizabeth Bennet gazed out of the window as the coach gently rambled towards the house in Hunsford, ignoring the breathless excitement of Maria Lucas, who sat beside her. She could hear the girl and Sir William Lucas, her father, prattling on about the grandeur of the estate at Rosings Park, but it had become mere background noise to her. The two had chattered about idle and frivolous things for the entire trip, and Elizabeth had become adept at tuning them out.
Was she looking forward to this visit? Elizabeth cocked her head to the side, considering. On the one hand, she was most definitely looking forward to seeing her dear friend, Charlotte, again after so long an absence. But she would also have to grit her teeth and put up with the simpering simpleton, Mr Collins, Charlotte’s new husband. Elizabeth still found it hard to believe that Charlotte had deigned to marry such a man. Oh, she understood her friend’s motivation clear enough, but it still rankled that Charlotte could compromise herself to such an extent – all for status and privilege.
She could see them both, now, standing outside the Parsonage gate. The garden sloped toward the road, with a laurel hedge around it. Mr Collins and his new wife. With a deep breath, Elizabeth told herself that she must not be judgmental. Charlotte was the same person, after all, and she could endure Mr Collins for the joy of seeing her dear friend again. As well as the two Lucas’ sitting beside her.
“Father! Lizzy! Maria!” Charlotte was running toward them before the carriage had pulled up. Elizabeth could see Mr Collins hopping from one foot to the other behind her.
They disembarked, and embraced. Elizabeth was dismayed to find herself overtaken by Mr Collins, who insisted on singling her out, leading her on a tour of the house. The others tagged along behind them.
Eventually, they sat for refreshments. After Mr Collins had entreated them all to examine the furniture in the room, Elizabeth found that she was finally able to sip her tea in peace. She gazed at Charlotte.
“It warms my heart to see you again, dear Charlotte,” she said.
“And it warms my heart to see you, my dear Eliza,” Charlotte responded. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Mr Collins swooped in.
“Indeed, it is good to see you, dear cousin,” he said. “To think that you all are to be guests at the Parsonage, under the watchful eye of my patroness! If you are all very lucky, Lady Catherine may deign to invite you to Rosings Park. You will all indeed be honoured if such an invitation was received!”
“Oh, do you really think that we may be invited to Rosings Park?” asked Maria with shining eyes. Sir Lucas beamed.
Mr Collins smiled, gazing out of the window. “Lady Catherine, under normal circumstances, might not have invited you,” he replied. “It would only be as a favour to me that anything of the sort may occur. My esteemed patroness values me so much that she may be willing to overlook the differences in social standing. But I cannot promise anything, of course.”
Elizabeth raised her tea cup to her mouth, looking at Charlotte. Her eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter. Charlotte, to her credit, blushed only slightly as her husband lectured onward about the beneficence of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
After Mr Collins lead them around the garden, Elizabeth was relieved that he took Sir Lucas and Maria further afield. She was finally able to speak to her friend alone.
“Are you well, Charlotte?” she asked as they linked arms and rambled amongst the roses.
“I am well,” Charlotte smiled. “I find myself so gratified to finally have a house of my own, dear Lizzy, and have worked out the management of it very ably. Lady Catherine, of course, is very generous with her patronage. We dine at Rosings weekly, and she even lets us come home in one of her carriages.”
“That is kindness indeed,” smiled Elizabeth. “I am sure Mr Collins expresses his gratitude most loudly.”
Charlotte smiled, too. “My husband is always grateful for Lady Catherine’s patronage,” she continued, “as you know. But pray tell me, what is the news from Hertfordshire? How is dear Jane?”
Elizabeth scowled. “Jane never complains,” she said, leaning over to smell a rose. “You know that she is all sweetness and affability, despite being treated abominably by Miss Bingley. It is her doing, and Mr Darcy’s, that Mr Bingley left so suddenly for London, leaving Jane bereft. She is in London now, staying with my uncle and aunt Gardiner.”
“Oh dear. Has she heard from Mr Bingley?”
“I simply do not know.” Elizabeth continued walking. “I am expecting a letter, presently. Poor Jane! Hopefully I will not cross paths with Mr Darcy again, for I feel sure that I shall be unable to stop myself from mentioning it. Contemptable man! To have separated them…and then there is what he did to Mr Wickham, of course.”
“Of which you only know one side of the story, dear Lizzy,” Charlotte cautioned. “Mr Darcy is proud, to be sure, but he doesn’t strike me as a capricious man. If a souring of relations has occurred between them, there may be good reason that he has cut Mr Wickham off.”
“But what of Jane and Mr Bingley?” cried Elizabeth, turning to her friend. “Mr Bingley loves Jane, I am sure of it!”
“Love doesn’t always conquer all, Lizzy,” Charlotte replied, quietly.
Elizabeth was just about to protest when they were interrupted by Mr Collins, hurrying over the lawn toward them. Sir Lucas and Maria were trailing him, trying to keep up.
“Great news, my dear!” He stopped in front of his wife, trying to catch his breath. “I have just received word from Rosings. We are to dine there tomorrow night. Lady Catherine has condescended to meet you all. Oh, the honour!”
They all walked back into the house, Mr Collins chattering onward about Lady Catherine the whole distance.
∞∞∞
“Do you think that we shall get a tour of the house, Lizzy?’ Maria asked as they walked together to Rosings the next night. “Oh, I shall be so excited if we do! I shall have to write a letter home to tell them all as soon as we get back.”
Elizabeth didn’t reply. She was too busy contemplating the house itself, which loomed before them. It was very grand, to be sure. But she wasn’t sure if she liked it. While opulence was evident, she could see little of true beauty in its lines. She wasn’t about to be intimidated by this showy display of wealth. A sentiment not shared by Sir Lucas and Maria, who were even now raving about it.
As they came to the estate, they were greeted at the door by the footman and then shown into the large hall where Lady Catherine and her daughter, Anne, were sitting. Elizabeth stud
ied them as they approached. Lady Catherine was obviously a proud woman; her cold gaze swept over them, with not so much as a whisper of a smile lightening her visage. Her daughter, Anne, sat opposite her, looking at the floor. Even from this distance, Elizabeth could see that Anne had a very different demeanour to her mother. She was pale, and didn’t glance up as they approached.
“Lady Catherine,” Mr Collins blustered, “may I present my father-in-law, Sir William Lucas, Miss Maria Lucas, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He bowed so low his hand almost scrapped the floor.
Lady Catherine continued her cold gaze. Then she turned to Mr Collins. “Really, Mr Collins, this will not suffice at all,” she said. “You are aware, of course, that we sit to dine at Rosings at six precisely. It is almost that hour, and we have been waiting.”
Mr Collins opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Sir Lucas and Maria looked confused. Elizabeth alone held her gaze.
“We have additional guests,” Her Ladyship continued. “Darcy! Fitzwilliam! Where are you both?”
Elizabeth felt her heart start to thud, painfully. It couldn’t be…could it? But at that very moment, two gentlemen walked into the room. Elizabeth was confronted with the haughty countenance of Mr Darcy, and another man that she hadn’t met before.
“These are my nephews, Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Lady Catherine boomed. “We shall all get better acquainted over dinner, I presume. I have a special announcement to make, and the meal is cooling as we dally.” She shot a withering glance towards Mr Collins, who paled considerably but again could not think of a thing to say.
Her Ladyship slowly rose, then swept imperiously into the dining room. Elizabeth refused to look at Mr Darcy as she followed the others. Events had taken a surprising and unwelcome twist.
∞∞∞
There was little talk as the assembled party slowly made their way through the courses. Elizabeth could feel Mr Darcy’s gaze on her from time to time, but she steadfastly refused to look at him.
She studied Colonel Fitzwilliam. He seemed a pleasant enough man; at least, he hadn’t demonstrated his cousin’s proud inclinations. Anne de Bourgh was as silent as a church mouse, trembling visibly when her mother spoke to her. Elizabeth felt a stirring of sympathy for the young woman. To have such an overbearing mother! She had difficulties with her own mother, but she would prefer the histrionics of Mrs Bennet over the cold, domineering tactics of Lady Catherine de Bourgh at any time.
Her Ladyship at that moment raised her head from her partridge. “I mentioned that I have a special announcement,” she declared.
“You did indeed, Your Ladyship,” Mr Collins simpered. “I think that I talk for the entire company when I say that we are all ears…”
Lady Catherine ignored him. “It was long the cherished desire of both Mr Darcy’s mother and myself that our children would one day unite,” she said. “And I am pleased to announce that the day is almost upon us. My daughter, Anne, and my nephew, Mr Darcy, have just become engaged.”
Congratulations burst forth from nearly everybody at the table. Mr Collins grew red with pleasure, expostulating his delight so forcefully that Lady Catherine was reduced to silencing him with another withering stare.
Elizabeth looked at Mr Darcy. Well, she was not surprised. She had heard talk of such a union back in Hertfordshire. The man himself didn’t seem overjoyed at the announcement of his impending marriage, nor did he once glance at his new fiancée. Elizabeth felt a small stab of pleasure. He was only marrying for duty, because he had been told that he must. That much was obvious. There was no romance occurring between him and Anne de Bourgh. Good, Elizabeth thought. He deserves a loveless marriage after what he has done to poor Jane and Mr Bingley. Not to mention Mr Wickham.
But then her eyes were drawn to the bride-to-be, Anne. If she had trembled when her mother spoke before, she was shaking visibly now. It seemed barely possible, but she had grown paler still so that her complexion resembled candle wax. Was she about to faint? Elizabeth thought it entirely possible. Once again, she felt a stirring of sympathy for the young woman.
It was strange, thought Elizabeth. Even though the table were all talking excitedly about the marriage, no one thought to turn to Anne. She was so overshadowed by her mother and new fiancée, it was indeed as if she were a mere appendage to the arrangements. But, there was one person besides Elizabeth who did turn toward her.
Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth watched as he gazed at Anne, his eyes full of sadness. At first, she refused to return the gaze, but then it was as if her face was a sunflower turning toward the sun. As if she couldn’t control it. As if she were drawn to it for her very sustenance. Her eyes were as tender and sad as his.
It had only been for a second, but Elizabeth had seen it. No one else had; they were too busy grovelling at the feet of Lady Catherine and Mr Darcy.
There was something going on between Anne de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth was sure of it.
Chapter Two
“My dear, you simply must get the servants to clean properly.” Mr Collins looked pointedly at his wife across the breakfast table. “The house needs a thorough spring cleaning. It might be sufficient for the guests that we currently have, but with the wedding and the visitors who will come, we must be prepared.”
“Who will visit us at the Parsonage, husband?” Charlotte calmly replied. “I expect when the wedding guests descend, they will all stay at Rosings or other lodgings. Lady Catherine has never set foot in here.”
Mr Collins blustered. “But that doesn’t mean that she won’t!” He glanced around at the others, as if entreating them. “One must always have the house spic and span, in preparation. One simply does not know what grand people will be patronising our neighbourhood when the wedding happens.” He took a sip of his tea, nodding to himself.
“I think that Charlotte does a superlative job,” declared Elizabeth. “Even for such lowly guests as she currently has.” She smiled slightly as she spread jam over her toast.
Mr Collins eyes widened. “Cousin, you misunderstand me…”
“On the contrary, Mr Collins.” Elizabeth lowered her cup. “I understand you perfectly! It is truly wonderful when minds match so well, is it not?”
Mr Collins opened his mouth to reply when Charlotte intervened. “Mr Collins, your appointment with the farrier?” She glanced pointedly to the clock on the mantelpiece. “The man will be awaiting you. Perhaps my father and Maria might accompany you on the walk?”
“Of course, of course.” Mr Collins drained his tea cup, standing up. “Mrs Collins, how could you have delayed me so with idle talk? Sir Lucas? Maria? Shall we?”
By the time that the three had departed, Elizabeth felt a slight headache coming on. It was going to be a trying few weeks ahead. Thank goodness that Charlotte saw ways to manage her husband, and minimise his presence in the house. She had him so tied up in appointments today, Elizabeth doubted that they would see him again before dinner.
He had been in raptures the previous evening in the short carriage ride back to the Parsonage after dinner, talking at length about his joy over the impending marriage between Anne de Bourgh and Mr Darcy. Several yawns from Elizabeth had not curbed his enthusiasm, nor had entreaties from Charlotte that she had a headache.
But at least he was gone, for now. Elizabeth turned to her friend.
“As much as I am loath to re-introduce the topic,” she said, “what do you think, Charlotte, about this engagement between Mr Darcy and Miss de Bourgh?”
Charlotte picked up her tea cup. “We have always known that it would happen one day,” she replied. “Her Ladyship talks of it constantly.”
“And what of Miss de Bourgh?” Elizabeth continued. “Has she ever expressed an opinion on the matter?”
Charlotte looked at her friend. “Miss de Bourgh never expresses an opinion on anything,” she said. “Even from so short an acquaintance, I am sure you have surmised, Lizzy, that Miss de Bourgh is completely overshadowed by her mothe
r. I have rarely heard her speak.”
“Is she ill?”
“She suffers from maladies, of a vague nature.” Charlotte took a sip of tea. “While not ill, she is often not well. She spends most of her time in her chambers.”
“Hmmm.” Elizabeth rose, walking toward the window. “I wonder if melancholy is the cause. She is obviously shy, but then that is not surprising, given her mother.” She turned back to Charlotte. “And what of Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Do you like him, Lizzy?” she teased. “I thought that your heart was forever beholden to Mr Wickham.”
“Charlotte, you are wicked,” Elizabeth replied. “I do not know the Colonel at all. He seems a mild enough gentleman, compared to his cousin who sat next to him last night.” Her face darkened at the thought of Mr Darcy.
“Oh, yes.” Charlotte gazed at her friend. “We have not had a chance to speak of Mr Darcy! Was it terribly trying to sit across the table from him? And yet, Lizzy, let’s not forget that he seemed to admire you, once upon a time.”
