by Tilly Davis
Where The Heart Belongs
A Darcy and Elizabeth Pride and Prejudice Variation
Tilly Davis
Copyright © 2018 by Tilly Davis
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
Description
Part I
1. A Most Surprising Correspondence
2. A Sadness at Netherfield
3. A Clergyman Arrives
4. A Proposition is Made
5. An Invitation at Longbourn
6. A Dinner and a Proposal
7. A Proposal at Longbourn
8. A Departure and a Visit
9. An Unexpected Meeting
Part II
1. A Terrible Discovery
2. An Announcement is Made
3. The Situation at Hunsford
4. A Letter and an Approaching Marriage
5. The Day Before
6. A Most Unusual Wedding
7. Much Ado About Much
8. The Return to Longbourn
Part III:
1. Return to Meryton
2. Departure and Excitement
3. Events in London
4. An Unexpected Visitor
Part IV
1. After the Proposal
2. Of Marriage
Part V
1. A Longbourn Affair
2. An Unwelcome Visitor & New Beginnings
Afterword
About the Author
Description
The most privileged in society cannot marry merely for love. Duty comes first.
Elizabeth Bennet knows her duty to her family, but as she approaches the altar and sees Mr. Collins’ self-satisfied expression, she wonders how she can go through with a loveless marriage.
And when she sees Mr. Darcy in the congregation, what will she decide?
Marriage is for those in love or lust. But not for the highest in society.
Marriage is his duty. Darcy knows that.
But, when it draws near, he knows he cannot make Miss Bingley the mistress of Pemberley. He cannot admit it to another, but he knows his affections are elsewhere.
Where The Heart Belongs is a 75,000-word Regency romance novel. It is sweet and clean with a happy ending.
Part I
1
A Most Surprising Correspondence
The arrival of a letter is, without doubt, a most exciting affair. Letters are the bearers of both good news and ill, joy and sorrow, they announce death and life, communicate feeling and reserve it, they can offer consolation, as well as foreboding, and be the means by which lovers and friends demonstrate affection at a distance, or enemies place their curses without recourse to violence. A letter can be a mere trifle, or the harbinger of life-changing events.
Thus, it was that the arrival of any letter at Longbourn was a cause at least of interest, particularly if it bore an unfamiliar hand, or came at an unexpected hour. The letter which Mr. Bennet received on a damp October morning was just such a one as to arouse curiosity, and as he sat in his study, whilst a dank mist encircled the house, his daughter Elizabeth, who had entered the study to draw books for the afternoon’s reading, it being far too wet to go outside, implored him to open it.
‘Do look and see who it is from, Father,’ she said, as the letter lay facing upwards on the gentleman’s desk, amidst a pile of more familiar correspondence.
‘Why the eagerness, Elizabeth?’ he asked.
Elizabeth Bennet had always been her father’s favourite, bookish though attractive with it, and of his five daughters the one who had caused him the least anxiety during the years between birth and womanhood.
‘I should just like to see from whom it has come,’ Elizabeth said, ‘the script is ever so scrawly.’
‘Another bill probably,’ Mr. Bennet said.
He was a businessman of reasonable standing, though he had always preferred his books to his affairs, and this had ensured that the house at Longbourn was the pinnacle of that which his current social standing should achieve. But with five daughters, and a wife who was by no means shy and retiring, Mr. Bennet had quite enough to worry about, without advancing his own interests.
Reluctantly, though secretly happy to appease his daughter, he took up the letter knife and broke the seal on the envelope, opening it and pulling out the paper from which he silently began to read.
Elizabeth stood looking eagerly at him.
At length, the gentleman let out a considerable chuckle, infuriating his daughter even further and now attracting the attention of his wife, who had been passing the study on her way to check the dining room before the evening meal.
‘My dear Mr. Bennet,’ the lady said, poking her head through the door, and looking at her husband and daughter with some incredulity, ‘whatever has caused such mirth in you on such a horrid day as this, pray tell so that we can all share in your joviality.’
‘My dear Mrs. Bennet,’ he said, ‘it is not a joke which has taken my fancy, rather a person who one could say is himself a source of humour and from whom I have just received this letter.’
‘Well, who could be writing to you who is of such a status?’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘I can think of no acquaintance of ours who should elicit such reaction.’
‘Allow me to speak, dear lady, and the mystery shall be revealed.’
Mrs. Bennet had now entered the room and was standing next to her daughter, who stood a good head higher than herself, the other girls being of a similar standing.
The raucous discussion in the study had attracted the attention of the four other Bennet sisters who were all confined to Longbourn owing to the inclement conditions outside.
‘My goodness, Mr. Bennet,’ his wife continued, ignoring her husband’s plea for silence, ‘see how you have attracted the entire household with your mysterious and mirth-inducing letter, must we all line up meekly now to hear its contents?’
Elizabeth was now joined by her elder sister Jane and younger sisters, Mary, Catherine, known as Kitty, and Lydia, who at fifteen was wont to find anything amusing and was already in fits of giggles at her mother’s obvious frustration.
‘I call this court to order then,’ Mr. Bennet said, rising from his chair, ‘the letter comes from my cousin Mr. Collins, a man whom I have never laid eyes on in the whole course of my life.’
At this Mrs. Bennet snorted.
‘And you have had no reason to do so, Mr. Bennet, after the way your brother treated you and consigned us all to his mercies upon your death.’
‘My good lady, reports of my demise are greatly exaggerated,’ Mr. Bennet continued, ‘Mr. Collins is a man of some standing now, it would seem, a clergyman, but perhaps I shall read the letter to you myself and you shall receive a measure of the man from his own hand,’ and with that he winked at Lizzy.
‘The letter is dated the fifteenth of October and comes from Hunsford, near Westerham in the county of Kent, dear sir, it reads:
It was with much distress that I prepared the funeral arrangements for my late father, and realising the considerable disagreement which lay between you, I thought it fit not to allow you to meet as mortal and deceased, that joy shall come upon another shore. Thus, I instructed his solicitors Messrs. Hugh and Kirkpatrick to inform you of his death. His estate, of course, passed directly to me as his only son and heir, making me a wealthy individual, and the rightful inheritor of Longbourn itself, though, as a clergyman, I am bound by oath to not allow wealth to overcome duty.
My ordination at Eas
ter brought me further good fortune in being granted the living of Hunsford, which lies within the vicinity of Rosings Park, the home of my patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, and a lady of the most estimable charm and decorum. I could not have hoped for a more favourable living, and believe myself to now be most blessed both in the security of my financial arrangements, and in the enviable position I find myself in here at Hunsford.
Though it pains me deeply that you did not seek to make amends to my late father, I myself possess no quarrel with you and I wish to now extend the olive branch of peace and friendship. It is my intention to visit you at Longbourn, arriving no later than four o’clock on the day of November 18th, remaining with you to the Saturday se’nnight following. I should deign to remain longer, but it is doubtful that Lady Catherine de Bourgh could take leave of my ministrations in the parish any longer, though of course other clergyman are thus employed to see to the needs of the ordinary folk during my absence.
It will be my great pleasure to familiarise myself with Longbourn, and also to meet with your dear wife and your daughters, of whom I have gleaned a little these years gone by, enough to know that each possesses a most individual charm to which I should be delighted to become acquainted further.
I remain, sir, with respectful compliments to the ladies here mentioned, your friend and well-wisher. William Collins.
Mr. Bennet laid the letter down on his desk and looked expectantly at his family, standing before him.
Mrs. Bennet took up the letter and read it again for herself.
‘Well, perhaps he shall prove us wrong,’ she said, ‘his tone is formal, perhaps a little self-important, you are his uncle after all, though I should say his visit is sincere, he offers an olive branch of friendship, perhaps upon your death, dear sir, we shall not be turned out of our beds immediately.’
Their daughters stood smiling to one another, Elizabeth thought the tone to be rather pompous, clearly Mr. Collins was of that breed of clergyman who consider their position to bestow rights upon them somewhat above their station. She knew of the dispute between her father and her uncle, though she had given little thought to the effect it would have upon the inheritance of Longbourn. Her cousin William Collins had featured in almost no significant manner in her life to date, yet here he was in the written form expressing not only his future ownership of her home, but also his desire to become a feature of their lives.
The two youngest Bennet girls, Kitty and Lydia, had not listened to much of what their father had read, at the mention of Mr. Collins’ ordination their minds had altered the image of their cousin as a dapper red-coated officer of the military to a dull old man in gaiters and breeches, redolent of the local clergy whose sermons they were forced to sit through each Sunday. For the two sisters found pleasure in the company of exciting men, and Mr. Collins appeared far from exciting.
Jane and Mary also gave little thought to the arrival of their cousin, though for quite different reasons. It had transpired a little time before our story begins that Jane Bennet had spent time in the company of a Mr. Bingley who, along with his sister Caroline, had taken nearby Netherfield Park, at least for the duration of the year, and to whom she had become considerably attracted to, meeting him firstly at the Assembly Room ball before being invited to Netherfield itself. On the way there she had met with an unexpected rain shower which had caused her to fall ill, necessitating a stay at Netherfield and the furtherance of her acquaintance with Mr. Bingley. The imminent arrival of her cousin, therefore, brought little note of interest to her, so fixated were her thoughts as to the gentleman at Netherfield.
On her part Mary found the news of her cousin’s arrival to be of interest only if he were to bring a new book or news of intellectual interest to Longbourn which, given he was a clergyman, appeared unlikely.
The family then had received the news of Mr. Collins’ arrival with a mixture of both interest and lack thereof, and a general sense that his week-long stay would be an endurance, rather than a pleasure, Mrs. Bennet muttering to herself that she had no sense of how they would entertain their visitor for that long, the vicinity of the house holding little of great interest, particularly as the autumn set in.
As the arrival of the letter had created excitement, so its revelation decreased it and at length the family dispersed from Mr. Bennet’s study to return to their household activities leaving just the gentleman himself and Elizabeth.
‘What say you of this imminent arrival then, dear Elizabeth?’ Mr. Bennet said.
‘He is certainly full of himself and overly confident, though as mother says he does present an olive branch. But I had no idea that Longbourn was his to inherit after our uncle’s death.’
‘Alas,’ Mr. Bennet said, ‘I am powerless to effect the laws of estate and inheritance, your cousin remains the male heir, whilst I have been blessed with five daughters, though I should say that mine was by far the happier lot,’ and he smiled.
‘He wouldn’t turn us out though, would he?’
‘Not whilst I am still warm and upright, no, and I have no doubt that your dear mother would give him her strongly worded opinion if he were to do so after I am cold in the grave. Nevertheless, it does no harm to appease one’s future benefactors. We shall be civil to him, I am sure, even if we must endure a week-long conveyance of Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s inimitable qualities. Come now, I am sure your mother will be calling us to dine very soon.’
Three miles away from Longbourn, across the parklands and countryside which make up that part of the country, was the estate of Netherfield Park, a fine and imposing house, built for aristocracy, though no longer occupied at all times, its owners leasing it to suitable persons for long periods each year.
As we have already observed the house at this time was let to a Mr. Charles Bingley, a most admirable man of good standing, accompanied by his sister Caroline, opinion of whom we shall reserve a little while longer.
The pair had arrived shortly after Michaelmas, Mr. Bingley taking leave of his London interests, eager to spend some time in the countryside about more leisurely pursuits. He had been joined by his friend and confidant, one Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the wealthy owner of the renowned estate at Pemberley in Derbyshire, rumoured to have some £10,000 per year, tall, dark and handsome but with an air about him which many mistook for aloofness.
At the Assembly Room ball, Mr. Darcy had been present with Mr. Bingley and his sister, though he had remained somewhat distant, even refusing to dance with Elizabeth Bennet, considering her looks, at that time, to be somewhat plain, though any who laid eyes upon her would count her amongst the most attractive in the district.
But this opinion had been changed somewhat by the arrival of Jane Bennet at Netherfield that fateful afternoon some weeks before, when the weather, being particularly unforgiving, had left her with the cold earlier recounted. It had fallen to her sister Elizabeth to make the walk from Longbourn to attend to Jane’s needs, and during their stay at Netherfield she and Mr. Darcy had found themselves becoming more intimately acquainted, much to the displeasure of Caroline Bingley, who herself possessed designs upon Fitzwilliam of Pemberley.
There is nothing more intricate in human society than the relationships which men and women create, for good or ill, and thus it was that when Jane and Elizabeth found themselves able to depart Netherfield for Longbourn, where Jane was still under strict instruction to rest, the scene had been set for further interest between both Jane and Mr. Bingley and Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, though what would come of such a new attachment could not be guessed.
With the scene at Longbourn now set and, the story told of what has so far transpired in the district since Mr. Bingley took up residence at Netherfield, let us now journey to that fine house to meet with the gentlemen in question, and discover how our story plays out, as other characters join the tale.
2
A Sadness at Netherfield
‘The house feels awfully quiet without them’ Charles Bi
ngley said, as he and his sister sat at dinner that evening, joined by their friend Mr. Darcy.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Charles, they were only here a few days,’ Caroline Bingley said, slurping her soup from her spoon.
‘I just mean that they brought some laughter to the place,’ he continued, ‘a sort of lightness of heart, despite Jane being ill, don’t you agree, Fitzwilliam?’
Mr. Darcy looked up from his bowl.
‘I’m sure I agree,’ he said, ‘I found them both to be most convivial company, despite Jane’s illness. Nevertheless we must make do with one another’s company once again, and that is, I am sure, something of a pleasure.’
At this point Caroline Bingley replaced her soup spoon in the bowl and looked at both men with some distaste.
‘A silly girl who should not have run through a rainstorm arrives and falls ill, her sister comes chasing after her, and suddenly we cannot bear to be without them. Dear brother, please remember that the Bennets are not of our own class, why Longbourn is not even a quarter of the size of Netherfield. And this is not even our home.’
‘Jane Bennet came at your invitation, dear sister,’ Mr. Bingley said, smiling.
‘An invitation she should have refused given the weather that day,’ Caroline Bingley replied curtly.