These Dreams: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Nicole Clarkston

  Her face fell. “Tomorrow. That is why I hoped to steal him away quickly, perhaps even this very night!”

  “You have still Pereira, as well as Miguel. As his wife, I expect you would know how he spends his evenings?”

  Amália winced. “Not of late, although he spoke to me this morning and requested a quiet dinner for this evening, rather than a formal meal.” She swallowed. Miguel’s “quiet dinners” always featured the same sort of menu, and for the present, she had not the slightest appetite.

  Ruy turned to his sister, one eyebrow quirked. “I shall depend on your assistance, you know. Perhaps when the proper time comes, you may keep the household distracted. When was the last time you had a guest to dinner?”

  19

  Cheapside, London

  The party did not remain long in London. Elizabeth and Lydia had stayed two nights with their aunt and uncle, as that good man scrambled to be certain that his household and business concerns would be well managed while he was to be away. Colonel Fitzwilliam, for his part, seemed similarly engaged upon his own mysterious business, and the three young ladies saw little of him.

  Occupied as he was, however, he did not neglect to send a few missives to Mrs Reynolds, Mr Hodges, and Mr Jefferson—as well as Mrs Annesley, who had remained at Pemberley with a troublesome cough—regarding the guests of the mistress who were shortly to arrive.

  At last, the fateful morning arrived. The colonel’s ship was due to depart, and the roads to the North were expected to be sound. It had been settled that they would travel together in the Darcy carriage, for it was far more comfortable for their party than anything Mr Gardiner owned. Once his charges had been safely delivered into the capable hands of Pemberley’s staff, Mr Gardiner was to return to London via post-chaise. He had promised Colonel Fitzwilliam that he would travel North once more at a moment’s need, and that should the colonel’s journey be of some duration, he would personally correspond with Mr Jefferson regarding any business matters of the estate.

  Elizabeth was the only traveler so far to present herself below stairs. She waited with her aunt in the drawing room, her reticule already clutched tightly in nervous fingers as her thumbs tapped one another in impatience. Mrs Gardiner smiled indulgently as she sewed, and after some minutes observed, “You are most eager to be away, are you not, Lizzy?”

  Elizabeth forced her thumbs to still. “For myself, Aunt, I should be happy to remain here. I do not relish returning to Pemberley under such circumstances. A guest coming at such a time is more of an intruder when a house is without… without its accustomed order.”

  Mrs Gardiner lifted a brow. “Indeed, I should think many things will be different. A house is never quite the same without its master.”

  Elizabeth’s thumbs resumed their nervous dance. This was her deepest fear—that she would encounter that paradise once more to learn that the bloom had forever fallen for her, and could never be restored… unless Colonel Fitzwilliam is right…. But no! She could not allow herself to hope again. She would never survive plunging afresh into that shattering grief when she once more faced the reality of Darcy’s loss.

  Instead of confessing the fullness of her misgivings, however, she excused herself with more practical concerns. “I am not qualified to advise Miss Darcy, Aunt! I do not know how I am to do it. I am certainly not of her circles in Society, and it is not as though I were intimate with the grounds or the workings of the estate.”

  “Miss Darcy is,” Mrs Gardiner pointed out. “She does not need you to show her how things were, only to lend her a bit of courage. I have seen for myself how she draws strength from your presence, even after so slight an acquaintance last summer. I found it quite remarkable at first, but I am not so surprised when I think further on it. You carry yourself with a grace born of sophistication and intelligence, but you are still of a genuine and artless nature. I think she has grown weary of those who would seek to control or profit by her, and you are neither of those.”

  “And what do you think of Lydia joining us?”

  Mrs Gardiner pursed her lips, her eyes sparkling. “What do you think of it, Lizzy?”

  Elizabeth’s brow creased darkly. “I think two more opposite young ladies never lived! I cannot understand their fascination with each other, but as Papa also remarked, they took to one another almost instantly.”

  “You are not jealous, are you?” her aunt teased.

  Elizabeth straightened. “Naturally, no! I suppose I ought to be secretly pleased that I shall not be leaving Lydia wholly to her own devices at Longbourn, but I foresee trouble. Lydia has been more wounded than she will now confess. Oh, certainly of late she has begun to laugh and make light of it all before everyone else, but privately, she is terrified, Aunt.”

  “Indeed, she has a right to be! Mr Wickham has left her in a terrible spot, from which there is no hope of recovery for her. It is well that she has found a confidante in you, at least, but I too thought I detected a certain artificiality to her recent cheerfulness. You do not think her despair is such that she would bring harm upon herself if she were left alone, do you?”

  Elizabeth nibbled her lip thoughtfully. “It has been a fear of mine, but I hope we are beyond that danger. I would not vouch for Mr Wickham’s safety if he were to return. I should think at the least he will take a parasol over the head.”

  Mrs Gardiner laughed. “I daresay it would be well deserved!”

  “She takes fits of melancholy, Aunt, and at times I am quite frightened for her! I dread should she, and Miss Darcy, and….”

  “And yourself, Lizzy?” Mrs Gardiner asked gently.

  Elizabeth’s lips thinned. “We have each of us enough sorrows of our own for three to bear. Shall we share encouragement, or will we only bring one another lower?”

  “At such times,” the elder lady observed, “I have drawn comfort from the Psalms. But you must do as you see fit for the situation. Now quite seriously, Lizzy, I think this trip to be just the thing for Lydia. It removes her from Longbourn for a time, which is to everyone’s benefit, and it allows her to take her mind from her own troubles while she mingles in better society. I always thought Lydia somewhat too impressed with her own consequence, and here she has an opportunity to learn humility from one who will treat her with even more kindness than her own family. I trust Miss Darcy’s example will go far in her eyes, and who knows? Perhaps our Lydia’s own bravado in the circumstances may teach Miss Darcy a new sort of fortitude.”

  “Or they shall discover that they are wholly unsuited as companions, which I could have told them from the beginning! Even if Lydia does not tire of Miss Darcy, and Miss Darcy does not discover Lydia too wild for her level of society, they each must overcome their unique… trials. I cannot think what we are to do when Lydia nears her confinement, and her husband—who is known in the area as a philanderer—is entirely absent. What then, Aunt?”

  Mrs Gardiner frowned. “It is a pity that Lydia concealed her condition for so long. Perhaps she could have gone away for some months and your uncle and I might have taken the child as our own, but it was too late for that when all was known. At least the folk of Meryton all think her to have gone to her husband for a time, and will perhaps show themselves welcoming if she is to return with a child. Soldiers do go to war, you know. Where she and the babe are to live after you all come away from Pemberley, I cannot know. Perhaps by then, more will be learned of Mr Wickham. I understand that he must be considered a deserter by now, so it is more than we who seek him.”

  “Until he is found, Lydia has no place and no future, and if he is caught, she is made a widow! I do not know which circumstance we ought to wish for her.”

  Mrs Gardiner placed a comforting hand at her niece’s shoulder. “’Tis a heavy burden you shall bear, protecting and guiding both your sister and Miss Darcy. I wish I could accompany you to Pemberley, but I am sorely needed here. You know that your uncle’s business is growing, and he relies on me a great deal. If he
is to be away for an extended time just now, I dare not go myself.”

  Elizabeth shivered and she drew a resolute breath. “I would that you could join us as well, Aunt. Your advice would be most welcome, but I must not continue to pity myself. We shall carry on, and when Lydia’s time approaches I shall send word of how matters stand with us in Derbyshire. Mr Jones expected it would be sometime in late April, and I am not certain of the wisdom of her taking to child bed so far from Town.”

  “We have nearly four months, Lizzy. Much can occur in such a span.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. Four months! Yes, a great deal had occurred in that time already. To what reversals of fortune and circumstance might she bear witness over these next months?

  Just under half an hour later, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana Darcy’s carriage drew up to the Cheapside residence. The colonel was set down to depart immediately for his ship, but he took a moment to draw Elizabeth aside before he went.

  “Miss Bennet,” began he, “I wish to express to you again my heartfelt gratitude. I do not know how I could have left my cousin among our relations—they are not practiced in the ways of tender patience toward one such as she. It would have been a sore trial for her. Like as not I should have returned to find her betrothed to some wealthy Tory, and Pemberley all but unrecognisable.”

  Elizabeth chuckled softly. “The honour is mine, Colonel. I am pleased to count her a friend, and modest though my abilities are, I shall do all I can for her.”

  “You do yourself too little credit, Miss Bennet,” he smiled, touching the peaked crown of his hat. “I have unshakable faith in you. Your promise comforts me more than you can know, and I leave with heart and mind more fully centred upon the task before me. I pray I shall accomplish some little, at least, of all that I dare to imagine.”

  Elizabeth drew herself up rigidly, her features flushed. “You still believe it possible, do you? That he is not… not…?”

  The flesh around his eyes tightened. “I know only the facts I have told you, Miss Bennet. I hope to know more soon.”

  “Then I wish you blessing and good fortune on your travels! May you find… what you seek.”

  He took her gloved hand and raised it to his lips, the corner of his mouth tipping upward as he made his husky reply. “I hope I shall find him as well, Miss Bennet.”

  ~

  Porto, Portugal

  Three more days!

  He had been naïve—or, rather, desperate—enough to think that once his presence had been discovered by a benevolent soul, his rescue would have followed immediately. In vain he had waited, with held breath, sleepless eyes, and strained ears. Every distant sound had been cause to jolt to his feet; simultaneously fearing his captors and praying for his salvation.

  That nameless, faceless angel had visited one more time, repeating her promise of rescue and asking disjointed questions about his family back in England. Why so many questions about his uncles and cousins? Her interest sounded somehow more personal, more earnest. Did this girl, too, have some claim against his family, or had she been told the same lies as he?

  His remaining time had not entirely been spent alone. Pereira and the younger Vasconcelos had come that very morning before dawn. They seemed to thrill in choosing unpredictable hours to come taunt and jeer at him. He had cultivated a special horror of burlap and water, but their words—oh, their words were the worst! The accusations against Richard and Georgiana alone were enough to make the blood throb in his ears, and he spent all his after-hours stewing and raging, incessantly pacing the two or three short steps afforded him by his leg shackle.

  Soon! his rescuer had claimed, and he would board a ship bound for England. Soon! he promised himself, and he would know the truth! He could almost savour the sweet taste of salt air on his tongue, could see with his own eyes the spired, bleached gates of Dover welcoming him home, and he could hear… oh, he could hear his name, spoken aloud as it had been in his dreams, by the most beloved voice in all the world.

  He had never been one to spin useless fantasies, but with this one silver thread of hope now dangled before him, he began to think and to plan. If he had an enemy at home, he would do well to learn all he could before showing himself returned! His heart longed to race straight to Pemberley, to restore to himself all that had been lost… but though he would not own it consciously, some whisper of doubt troubled him. No, perhaps he ought to detour first to some place safe, from whence he could gain whatever information was available. London, or close by, would be ideal for learning what he must, but returning at once to Town proper seemed out of the question.

  He dropped his face to his hands, willing his drumming pulse to calm. Green pastures, soft rolling hills, and a babbling brook lined with trees he called to mind—all images to which he oft returned when his thoughts of home sent his spirits into a turmoil. Gentle scenes, all—and all of them somehow connected to Hertfordshire and Elizabeth Bennet. And thus, his first destination after regaining his freedom was decided.

  20

  Porto, Portugal

  Amália,

  I have learned of a ship that is to depart for England on Friday. There are earlier ships, but this is a captain I can trust, for he has no connections to either our family or to Vasconcelos. I have already secured passage for a Mr Stewart aboard the ship.

  It might be wiser to wait until Thursday night to release your friend, but if you are convinced that tomorrow will be the best night for you to access him without rousing suspicion, we will meet tomorrow as we arranged. I know of a room I can use at the docks, for its owner is presently at sea. Your friend can hide there until his ship sails.

  You must obtain the keys to the door and his irons. Have you discovered yet where they are kept? If you cannot secure them in time, you must send me word so that I may cry off.

  Ruy

  Amália crumpled the note. The keys! No, she had not yet learned where Miguel or his father kept them. Another late-night foray into the study had not yielded them up, and she was beginning to think she would only find them locked in a private writing desk or kept on their persons. How was she to reach them in time?

  Her fingers tightened over the wad of paper just before she furtively cast it into the fire grate—and none too soon, for Miguel’s steps clicked against the tiles into her room. She spun about, still blocking the view of the fire with her body. “My husband,” she curtseyed and smiled, though there was a shade of guilt to her expression if Miguel had cared to notice.

  He did not. “My dear,” he waved a hand in irritation. “Is it proper that I must search so long for my wife for before I find her?”

  She tilted her head innocently. “Certainly not. Why do you search for me? The house is large, but I make no secret of my whereabouts.”

  His features contracted in anger, and he strode sharply near. “You make too free with my good nature. I will no longer endure such impertinence from my wife!”

  She flinched, drawing back and lowering her head. Never had Miguel struck her, but something in his manner just now chilled her to her very marrow. “Forgive me, Miguel!” she protested nervously. “Such was not my intention! I only meant that if I were in another part of the house, one of my maids must surely have given you the information you sought.”

  “I have no intention of playing the foolish spouse, running about after the servants for word of my wife. Your only duty is to please your husband, but you seem to care little for doing so!”

  A convicted heat stained her cheeks as she kept her eyes low. “I do beg your pardon most humbly, Miguel. I was detained with the housekeeper—”

  “Another excuse! Where have you been each time I have sought you? I do believe your brother has seen you more in the last week than I, and when we are in company, you find some reason to leave my presence.”

  She blinked, nibbling her lips but keeping her gaze down. Whether out of fear or a guilty conscience, she sensed that making eye contact with her hus
band just now would only incense him further. “Did we not spend all of the last two or three evenings together?” she murmured defensively.

  “With my madrasta as a guest! Oh, yes, I remember how pleased she was by your thoughtful invitations.”

  Amália swallowed and dared to meet his eyes. “I only thought that with your father away in the province, she would appreciate the company of her family.”

  He threw his arms explosively in the air. “Did I not specifically request a quiet evening in our private chambers on each of the last three days? Instead, I am required to share my wife with my madrasta in the drawing room, only to find her too fatigued after her hostessing duties to entertain me! How many more excuses do you intend to find, Amália?”

  Amália felt the blood drain from her face. “Please, Miguel, I do not intentionally avoid your attentions!”

  The cords of his jaw stood out as his mouth furrowed bitterly. “That is a lie! I provide for you handsomely and treat you as a princess, yet you disdain me. You have hardened your heart against me! I suppose I ought to have expected it, for I do not wear a red coat as your former suitor did.”

  Indignant fire surged into her veins, but she forced a humbler response. “Dear Miguel, you cannot suspect me of divided sentiments! That was so long ago, and he was only a friend! There has been no other. Did I not pledge myself wholly to you?”

  “And you have failed to keep that vow! Speak the truth, my wife; do you not still prefer the Englishman? Those times you took me in your arms, was it his face you saw when you closed your eyes?”

  She cringed, feeling the empty air behind herself and shrinking backward. “Miguel, please, I—”