These Dreams: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Nicole Clarkston

  Vasconcelos smiled. “We are, by happy circumstance, joined as family now. A more promising enterprise we have never embarked upon together. Good day, old friend.”

  ~

  Longbourn

  Elizabeth heaved a great sigh. It was over. Jane Bennet was no more, and Netherfield Park now had a mistress.

  Elizabeth surveyed the wreckage of the drawing room—the empty serving platters, the soiled cups and saucers, the cold tea pot in her hand… a great weight had been slowly descending over her since the day of Jane’s engagement, and today she felt her chest tighten, as though breathing had suddenly become a burden. Jane’s transcendent joy she would not blight, nor could she reserve her own sincere promotion of her sister’s happiness, but her own prospects seemed all the more grey by comparison.

  All the Bennet family’s particular friends had paid their respects to Jane on this day, as was right and proper—not to mention an immeasurable relief after the debacle of Lydia’s marriage. The Philipses, the Longs, the Lucases and Collinses—all had smiled and offered their felicitation, and finally taken their leave. Among the last of the wedding guests to depart Longbourn, surprisingly, were Mr and Mrs Hurst and Caroline Bingley.

  Elizabeth held back, hoping that she might escape notice as the party withdrew, but it was not to be. Caroline looked about and came directly to her. “Eliza,” she crooned, “how charming that we are to be sisters!”

  “Indeed, Caroline, it is a most joyous event,” Elizabeth agreed. “I am sure that Jane owes much of her present happiness to your constant friendship and devotion this past year.”

  Caroline’s brow flickered, but her smile remained steadfast. “I always declared she was a sweet girl, and I am pleased now to have an opportunity to know her and her entire family better. Only think how convenient that Jane has so many sisters, and all still at home—even the one who has married! Very cozy,” she fluttered her lashes.

  “Quite so! Tell me, how soon shall you be returning to Netherfield? Surely Mr Bingley desires to have his sister close, and Jane will undoubtedly find your expertise at managing the household invaluable.” Elizabeth permitted the barest twitch of her mouth. She almost began to wish that Caroline had been invited to remain at Netherfield, because baiting her was the most satisfying diversion she had found in a long while. She ought to be ashamed of herself, for there remained no possible turf between them to dispute, but after weeks of rumpled feelings, she could not bring herself to resist.

  Caroline lifted her shoulders and tossed her head breezily. “Have you not heard about my house in London? You really must come see it, for it is the talk of the Marylebone district! Do wait a month, however, for I am redecorating my drawing room. It was positively medieval!”

  “I am afraid I cannot, but I thank you for the offer. Perhaps when I next visit my aunt and uncle in Cheapside, we may call on you.”

  There was a faint tightening under Caroline’s eye, and her mechanical smile wavered, then broadened. “I shall look forward to it, Eliza.”

  Elizabeth dipped a curtsey. “To be sure, so will I.”

  “Do you know,” Caroline’s eyes lit with inspiration, “I was interviewing for a lady’s companion only recently. A necessity, of course, for I may not receive gentlemen callers without such a friend at hand. It was quite a lamentable duty, my dear Eliza, for there are so few ladies of good character and respectable connections who are suited for the post. You and I always did get on so famously, and if I had not found just the right lady last week, I should have thought it the perfect situation for you.”

  Elizabeth’s brow curved. “I thank you for thinking of me, Caroline, but I fear I would be scarcely presentable among your friends. I do have such a dreadful habit of soiling my walking skirts, and I am terribly incapable of maintaining polite discourse without blurting out whatever backward notion comes into my head. I am afraid I am a hopeless case. You are so elegant, you must have ever so many fine gentlemen desiring to pay you court. Only think if I frightened off one of your favourites!”

  “Well,” Caroline gathered the front of her skirt with a barely concealed sneer, “I am certain that you shall have adequate opportunity to practice your conversations with gentlemen. I should think now that Jane has left Longbourn, there will be far more interest in her remaining sisters.”

  “I shall not trouble myself to ponder that point. The catching of a husband is the farthest thing from my mind.”

  “May I caution you, Eliza, as a friend—do not grow an old maid while waiting for another Darcy.”

  Elizabeth’s teasing warmth drained from her face, and she clutched the handle of her teapot as if it were a bulwark. Gone now was all her dubious pleasure in provoking Miss Bingley, and her lips seemed ice cold while her ears burned. “I cannot know what you mean!” she flushed.

  “Oh, come, Eliza, do not pretend that you had not your eye on him from your first acquaintance! Why, I remember when we all stayed at Netherfield how you delighted in frustrating him—a clever tactic, my dear, for when we met again in Derbyshire I could have sworn to his heightened interest in you. Such a pity he is gone, for now we shall never know.”

  Elizabeth’s heart bubbled into her throat, and she felt red from breast to forehead. She made answer with halting indignation, her voice strangely tight. “I was quite beneath Mr Darcy’s notice, Caroline—we both would have been! He must have sought a lady of impeccable refinement and superior birth—one with wisdom and deportment to match his own and to suit his station… he deserved as much,” she added in a lower tone.

  Caroline lifted a cool brow in mild interest at the heated reaction from Elizabeth. At last, she had succeeded in unsettling the Wit of Hertfordshire. “Perhaps you are right,” she purred. “Darcy was quite out of your league. I am sure that in time, you will learn to fancy a gentleman within your own sphere—why, you have a younger sister who has already done so! Oh, there you are, dear Lydia,” Caroline turned slightly to include the young lady who even now attempted to sidle out of the room toward the stairs. “What word have you of our dear Mr Wickham? I do hope he has found his new regiment to his liking? You must write for him to bring one or two of his companions when he returns to Hertfordshire. Your mother would be most pleased to entertain them, unless I am very much mistaken!”

  Lydia paused, her face white and her eyes shooting daggers at Caroline Bingley. A pleading glance to Elizabeth followed, then she made a passable curtsey and fled the room. Caroline returned to Elizabeth with a smirk of triumph, but found her companion curiously composed.

  “Excellent advice, Caroline,” Elizabeth was smiling serenely. “Now if I may beg your pardon, I was serving tea and this pot has gone cold. I am afraid I must excuse myself.” Elizabeth curtseyed once more, then began to stride gracefully away. Her foot, however, caught the edge of the rug, which had frayed somewhat over the years and been folded underneath to conceal its wear. The resulting ridge stubbed her slipper, and she lost her footing in a frightful dance. Arms pinwheeling, she preserved her balance by the edge of a nearby chair, but only just. The teapot, unfortunately, did not fare so well.

  “Elizabeth Bennet!” shrieked a now drenched Caroline. By sheer instinct she had caught the pot which had sailed from Elizabeth’s hands, but the front of her dress was ruined and dripping.

  “Oh! Oh, Caroline, dear me, I must beg your forgiveness!” cried Elizabeth. “You see how clumsy I am! Oh, how glad I am that you have already found a proper companion, for you see now that I never could have suited. Would you like something dry for your carriage ride? Lydia, I think, is nearly as tall as you, and I am certain she would not mind lending you one of her dresses.”

  Caroline seethed, her teeth clenched and her cheeks distending with each breath. “No, thank you, Eliza! I think you are quite right to avoid London and gentlemen for the present, for proximity to you appears to be hazardous!”

  “Indeed, it is,” Elizabeth nodded sadly. “May I wish you a pleasant journey,
Caroline.”

  Caroline shoved the pot toward Elizabeth and huffed away to the footman who awaited with her outerwear. Elizabeth savagely wished to have felt satisfied at her departure, but a pit in her stomach only signaled a return of her habitual dread. When the guests had all departed, the wedding breakfast all put up and sent to share with their tenants, the cold monotony of her days would settle once more. Her expression fell unconsciously as she sighed, then started for the kitchen.

  Exactly three steps later, her gaze encountered her father. Mr Bennet stood a little back from his wife and middle daughters as the last of the wedding guests departed, his thumbs resting casually at the corners of his waistcoat. Perhaps he thought to share a chortle with his favourite child at the follies of their neighbors, for he directed his quick smile in her direction. Elizabeth’s dispirited response, however, left him pondering her deep melancholy of late. She passed by without a word, a ghost of a smile, and none of the characteristic life in her eyes.

  His face pinched into an amused half-frown, and he sought the one person who might be able to explain the mystery. “Madeline?” he hailed his sister-in-law from a private corner.

  She withdrew from Mrs Hurst and came with a light smile. “Congratulations, Thomas. What a joyous day. I am so happy for Jane!”

  “Aye, she will do well enough. I’ve no doubt the housekeeper shall rule over her within a fortnight and her husband will bankrupt himself investing in her beauty, but they are both of such an easy disposition I doubt either circumstance shall trouble them.”

  “Thomas!” she laughed. “I think they are more prudent than you give credit for. Two such kindred souls cannot be prone to folly, and they have learnt much from the vices of others.”

  “They would be wiser than most of their persuasion, then. I scarcely remember my own younger years, so lost was I in my fancies and whims at the time. Tell me, Madeline, what circumstance could cause one who has been so much in the habits of pleasure—which had always seemed synonymous with their nature—to appear suddenly downtrodden? Is it a malady peculiar to young ladies, or have I so long forgotten my own youth that the explanation escapes me?”

  Her face sobered and she glanced toward the kitchen. “You are speaking of Lizzy?”

  “Indeed, none other. Why, even my cousin Mr Collins failed to amuse her! She has ever possessed a quickness and a clever humour that have allowed me to depend on her, at least, as an amiable companion, but I have found more stimulating conversation with Mrs Bennet of late.”

  Madeline’s lips pinched in thought. “Elizabeth has been sorely disappointed, Thomas. You must understand that one of her character does not find it easy to…” she paused, searching for words, “…to excuse the offences of others where the injury was hers.”

  “Ho! Do not attempt that explanation. It would do very well for Mary, but not for Elizabeth, who would be as apt to laugh off any injustice as otherwise.”

  “I think Elizabeth nurtured a hope which none of us might have understood, Thomas.”

  “You are not saying that she had some lover who has left her over Lydia’s affairs? No, I could not believe it of Lizzy. She is of such an open, cheerful disposition that if she had some admirer, we should all have known of it. And what should it be to her if such a fool did exist? A man who would desert such a prize as my Lizzy over a sister’s scandal seems hardly worthy of her.”

  “Indeed, Thomas, I think as highly of Elizabeth as Mr Bingley clearly does of Jane. Such an event has ruined many a family’s happiness, for just cause or no, but I think any man of sense would recognise Elizabeth for the treasure she is. However, I do not imply that she has been jilted for that cause. I think her expectations were more general, and she now feels herself without direction.”

  He studied her careful expression, her composed response, and judged—correctly—that there remained some hidden meaning that she would not pronounce. “Perhaps,” he mused very quietly, “a diversion might be in order. I had hesitated to send any of the girls from Longbourn for a time, but with Jane settled and Lydia appearing to suffer no further ill consequences for her escapade….”

  Madeline’s brows arched sharply. “Truly?” she whispered. “Oh, that is good news! Such a relief it must be.”

  “Indeed,” he grimaced and changed the unpleasant topic. “I have faith in Elizabeth’s discretion and your guidance. If she should desire to pay your family a visit in London, perhaps for the remainder of the Season, I should not object. A change of scenery might do her good, now that her favourite sister will be occupied by other matters.”

  “I heartily agree, Thomas. I will speak first to Edward and then to Elizabeth. If she agrees, I think she ought to remain with us until spring. Her cousins do adore her so. I think it would be a happy circumstance for all.”

  “All save myself!” bemoaned Mr Bennet. “With Jane married and Lizzy in London, I shall not hear two words of sense together in this house.”

  “If I am not mistaken, Lizzy speaks little enough as it is. You will have lost nothing more by sending her away,” she smiled.

  “Aye, there is that.” He stopped and shed a little paternal smile as the very young woman in question passed by them again for the stairs. She appeared in no hurry, but she could not be troubled to give more than a cursory greeting to either her father or favourite aunt.

  Mr Bennet’s face clouded once more. “See that you take her out,” he sighed. “If I am not mistaken, she rather enjoyed the symphony. I will forward enough spending money for whatever she requires.”

  “The money will not be necessary,” she assured him. “It will be my pleasure to try to cheer her.”

  ~

  Pemberley

  “Take her back to London!” Richard Fitzwilliam’s fingers curled into fists, longing to tug at his collar or rake his fingers through his hair. He had to continually remind himself that he was not with the men of his regiment, but with his aunt, and she would consider such mannerisms vulgar in the extreme.

  “Aunt Catherine, it is impossible. Georgiana has been inconsolable, and to expose her to London again so soon, when she is still so fragile, is—”

  “Is exactly what she needs, Fitzwilliam! She cannot hide away here at Pemberley. She must be seen among Society!”

  “With all due respect Aunt, I disagree. No one could expect a girl of not yet seventeen who has just lost her brother to carry on as though all is well. What do you think for her to do? She could not attend public events before, but even less can she do so now!”

  “She needs to receive female guidance, not the attentions of an unenlightened bachelor! People will begin to talk. Anne and I will come to Darcy house and act as hostesses for her, so she may receive callers,” Lady Catherine decided. “She must become acquainted with the ladies of the ton. Many alliances are forged during morning calls, Fitzwilliam.”

  Richard drew a sharp breath, and his eyes rounded. Lady Catherine taking charge of Georgiana? The poor girl would become as overborne and timid as Anne—why, even more so, for Georgiana had already experienced far more trauma.

  “Aunt, I cannot allow it!” he protested. “You are concerned for Georgiana’s future, which I quite understand, but I am more troubled by her present. I, too, was doubtful at bringing her back here to Pemberley, but here at least she does not keep to her rooms as she did at Matlock House. She is still despondent, but she walks the halls and the orangery here, and though her companion is frequently called away, Mrs Reynolds has proved a comfort to her. She is not strong enough to face a string of Society mamas, all desiring a match for their second sons.”

  “Second son!” scoffed the Lady. “Georgiana will settle for nothing less than a viscount!”

  “And do you also have a suitor arranged for her?”

  “Naturally. Lady Malvern’s son has just come of age, and Lord Wallace’s wife died last year in childbirth. Either would be a distinguished match for her, and they are both good Tories. That is essential
for any consideration of future connection to the family,” she avowed with a firm jerk of her chin.

  “I am less concerned about the man’s pedigree and politics than his character and suitability as a husband. I would rather see her attached to a man with no prospects at all, but who cared for her.”

  “Pshh!” huffed his aunt. “Richard Fitzwilliam, I am ashamed of you! These modern romantic notions have no place among decent society! I always told Darcy that he sheltered her from her responsibilities and permitted her far too much liberty for a young lady of her situation, and you are likely to do the same.

  “Georgiana Darcy is possessed of over half a million pounds, an estate that yields ten thousand more per annum, and one of the most fashionable houses in London. Her place in Society is of paramount importance, and the man she marries must be chosen with the greatest care! Of course, we cannot consider one who is not properly of her sphere, for her husband must be depended upon to steward her fortune. You are a fool not to already be considering the man’s politics and background, but at least you do not subscribe to my brother’s notion that you should wed Georgiana yourself!”

  “No, Aunt, but I am of the opinion that Georgiana is too young—”

  “Fitzwilliam,” she dismissed him with an air of supremacy, “you have not raised a daughter, so you cannot know what is to be done These alliances must be planned and brought about with the utmost delicacy and wisdom, which is why it is not the proper place of a childless bachelor to guide the process. You have not the stomach for it.”

  “I, a seasoned combat veteran, have not the stomach?” he nearly laughed.

  She fixed him with a withering look. “If you think the battles you have encountered on the Peninsula bloody, you have not yet experienced a Season with a wealthy debutante.”

  “Perhaps not, but I shadowed Darcy through enough drawing rooms. He always kept me at his right side as his sword arm, and for good reason as I recall.”