Darcy’s Second Chance

by Catherine Jennings

  Darcy’s Second Chance

  A Pride & Prejudice Variation

  Catherine Jennings

  Copyright © 2019 by Catherine Jennings

  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

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter One

  Elizabeth Bennet looked around the table and wondered how her companions were managing to stay calm. It was clear that their host for the evening had no sense of decorum. No, that was not the whole of it. Elizabeth had encountered many people whose manners left a lot to be desired. Mr. James Hardy was far worse than all of them combined. He had already asked her a number of questions that would shock and appal any reasonable person.

  Of course, she had no option but to stay calm and hold her tongue, which is what she did. Privately, she remained outraged. Wealth often lent a veneer of respectability—in this case, it was a very thin veneer indeed. Still, they had no choice but to tolerate him. As uncouth as he was, Mr. Hardy held her family’s very future in his huge, rough hands.

  She glanced at him and saw he was smiling at her. She tried not to let her repulsion show. It was not as if she could just stand up and leave, no matter how much she wished to. It was vital that they stay in favour with him.

  “Tell me, madam,” he said, stroking his whiskers in a way that set her teeth on edge. “How did you meet your husband?”

  She looked across the table. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, polished to a lustrous sheen. It was larger than most, almost square rather than rectangular. She had spent a lot of time that evening considering the properties of various items of furniture in an attempt to distract her attention away from the matter at hand. It would not do to slip and speak her mind. Not now.

  “Well?”

  She looked at each of the gentlemen opposite in turn. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Charles Bingley and William Collins looked back at her, each with very different expressions on their faces. Darcy was the picture of indifference. Bingley was uncharacteristically subdued, but then he had good reason to be. She wished he was better at hiding his discomfort. Mr. Collins was calm and seemed in good humour—she was not sure if he understood the full extent of their predicament.

  Elizabeth took a breath. Their host’s question had been directed solely at her and so she was obligated to answer before she offended him with her silence.

  “That is a wonderful question, Mr. Hardy. But I fear we shall be here all night if I attempt to answer it. It is a complicated tale, you see; full of twists and turns.” She smiled across the table at one of the gentlemen in particular.

  To her dismay, James Hardy was not put off in the slightest. “Go on then. Tell me. It cannot be duller than the other stories I have heard this evening.”

  She sighed inwardly and reminded herself of the importance of the evening. She had no choice but to tell him. No matter that it pained her to recall that period of her life.

  Elizabeth Bennet closed her eyes. “It was autumn of eighteen hundred and eleven. I am as sure of it as I am sure of anything. A militia regiment…” she froze and her stomach churned with horror. Why had she mentioned the regiment? She shook her head and went on. “At that time, I lived close to the village of Meryton with my family.”

  “Ah yes,” Hardy said. “At Longbourn House.”

  “Indeed,” she murmured, wondering just how much he knew about her and her family.

  “Is it still standing?”

  “Yes, it is. Why would it be otherwise?” She winced. It would not do to let the man see how little patience she had for him.

  “It could have fallen to ruin. Or burnt to the ground.” The threatening note in his voice was unmistakable. She looked across the table and could tell from the look in Darcy’s eyes that he had not missed it either. “Do your parents still reside there?”

  She glanced involuntarily at Mr. Collins before she answered and felt fresh humiliation at the thought of it. “Yes they do,” she said, working hard to keep her tone light. “They are both well.”

  “How wonderful. Do carry on. I would like to know how you met your dear husband. You seem to be evading the question.”

  All of a sudden she wanted nothing more than to get out of that room. She had gone there thinking there was no choice but to coddle and court James Hardy, but surely there must be. Surely there was another way…

  An image of the consequences they faced flashed into her mind then. She realised with a start that she might ruin everything if she did not calm herself. It was clear from Hardy’s bored demeanour that they had failed utterly to charm him.

  She forced herself to think of cheerier times so that it might show through in her voice. “Of course I am not evading it. It was the happiest time of my life, after all. I do not recall the weather, which suggests to me that it was mild but wet. That is how it usually is in Hertfordshire at that time of year. If it had been different I would remember, I am sure.”

  “My dear woman. If I wanted to hear about the weather, I might consult an almanack.”

  Bingley’s head snapped around to look at the man. It was Darcy who stopped him from saying anything he might regret. His hand snaked up from underneath the table and grasped his friend’s elbow until Bingley had recovered his composure.

  Elizabeth nodded her thanks. It was her fault for trying to delay. She could not understand why such a wicked man would want to hear a story of a young couple’s meeting. Under normal circumstances, she might have teased him for his interest, but these were not normal circumstances and she had no choice but to indulge him.

  “My sisters and I were ever so excited when we learnt that a young gentleman had taken up the lease on Netherfield House. It is a very lovely place about three miles from Longbourn on the other side of the village of Meryton, which I have already mentioned.

  “My father introduced himself to that young man and not long after, we met him ourselves at the assembly rooms in Meryton. It was a delightful evening. We danced until our feet were sore and then we continued to dance. Some weeks later, there was a ball at Netherfield.” She forced herself to smile. “You will forgive me for mentioning the weather, but it is relevant here. It was so inclement that we were scarcely able to leave the house at all in the weeks between.

  “Finally, the day of the ball arrived. We were all beside ourselves with giddiness.” She paused. “I danced with my beloved for most of that night and the very next week he came to ask my father for my hand in marriage.”

  If Hardy was touched by her story, it was not evident. “I must say, Mrs. Bingley, I had expected a more comprehensive account.”

  Elizabeth looked across the table at Charles, who appeared even less pleased to be there now than he had before.

  Why do you even wish to hear it? she wondered. What possible purpose ca
n it serve? Do you know the truth? Is that it? I can only assume you are trying to humiliate us in a new way.

  “I am not the best at telling it,” she whispered, smiling fondly at him as if he was a beloved old uncle they all saw fit to humour. “Charles tells it better.”

  Chapter Two

  The night dragged on. It seemed nothing they said could win their host’s favour. Charles’s telling of the story of his wedding day drew exaggerated sighs of boredom from the man. Hardy asked Darcy countless questions about his time in East India, only to interrupt when he began to answer.

  Elizabeth tried on many occasions to catch the eye of Hardy’s wife, but the other woman seemed not to notice her. It was maddening. As the hostess, Mrs. Hardy ought to have been the one to initiate their departure to the drawing-room. But she made no move to do so, not even when the port was brought out.

  To make matters worse, every time Elizabeth’s eyes wandered to the head of the table, she found their host watching her—no matter who was speaking at the time.

  “Do you have brothers, Mrs. Bingley?”

  She bowed her head. “No, I do not.”

  “Ah, yes of course,” Hardy said, almost triumphantly. “Of course. That is where you come into all this, is it not?” He looked at Mr. Collins as he spoke.

  Thankfully, Elizabeth answered before her relation had a chance. Mr. Collins was not known for his tact. Indeed, they had been unsure as to whether he should join them, but had finally agreed that having a man of the cloth present might soften Hardy’s attitude to them. That plan seemed almost laughable now.

  “No brothers,” she said hurriedly. “But four sisters. I imagine another child would have been a burden on my parents.” That was not true, of course—she knew her parents had desperately hoped for a son and heir. And perhaps they might all have escaped their current situation if that son had been born in Lydia’s place, but what was the sense in dwelling on that now?

  “Burdened by a son? Hardly. The real burden was all of those girls with their need for dowries and their constant senseless chatter.”

  Darcy spoke before Elizabeth had a chance to speak in anger. “Ah yes, but they surely made up for that with their singing and dancing.”

  She smiled at him as her anger dissipated. How had he known that she had been about to snap? She did not know him well and he was surprising her more and more by the minute. She had met him briefly at the same time as she first met Charles, but he had soon departed on a voyage that kept him away from England until January of that year. She had thought him a prideful severe sort of man, though her attitude had softened towards him because of Charles’s great fondness for him.

  Hardy did not notice her reaction to his words. He looked thoughtful as he considered Darcy’s reply. “Yes, I suppose that is true. You are a wise fellow, Darcy.” He jerked his head up and fixed Elizabeth with those cruel grey eyes. “Are your sisters pretty?”

  The blood left her cheeks and she felt cold as stone. Tears of indignation pricked her eyes—was there no end to the man’s insolence?

  “They are all married.” It was Bingley who answered—Elizabeth was incapable of doing so.

  “Are they?” Hardy enquired, focusing on his callused hands.

  “Not all of them,” Darcy said in the clipped tone she had not heard for years.

  “Oh?” Hardy sounded interested again.

  Elizabeth glared at Darcy. Why would he have said such a thing to a man like Hardy? What had he been thinking? He could so easily have said nothing and allowed the man to believe Bingley’s lie. Even Mr. Collins had not said anything. Surely if there was a time to forgive lying, it was now.

  If she had hoped Hardy might grow bored of the subject of the Bennet sisters, she was soon disappointed. Hardy latched onto this fact as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever heard.

  “You have at least one unmarried sister, according to this gentleman. Is that true?”

  Elizabeth’s heart fluttered. She did not dare look across the table at Darcy lest her anger show. She turned to Hardy, focusing her gaze on his prominent brow—anywhere but those shrewd eyes.

  “Yes, I do. He is correct in saying so. One of my sisters is unmarried. You must forgive my husband. He is forgetful at times and it is difficult to recall all the details of his own sisters’ lives, let alone mine.”

  She prayed for some distraction to present itself. She might have leapt to her feet and kissed the servant who dropped hot coal on the rug or the footman who dropped a tray of silver to the floor. But there was no interruption. Of course there was not. It was apparent that all of Hardy’s servants were terrified of him—that much had become clear from the moment they stepped inside his home. The whole place had a horrible subdued air as if all of the other occupants were afraid to even speak for fear of angering him.

  Hardy smiled. “And what is this lovely sister’s name; the one remaining Miss Bennet?”

  She swallowed. Her only hope was that she had succeeded in keeping the emotion from her face and that it would not be audible in her voice. Was it a trap? She still did not know. if it was, it was now far too late for them to wriggle out of it.

  “Elizabeth,” she said. “Her name is Elizabeth.”

  Chapter Three

  “And I must ask, Mrs. Bingley, if your unwed sister is as beautiful as you.”

  Elizabeth bit her tongue and stopped herself from responding in the manner she might have liked. She could not allow her temper to flare. All the same, this loathsome man’s conduct was unbearable. She could not believe he thought it acceptable to speak to a man’s wife in such a fashion. Of course, she was not married to Bingley, but Hardy did not know that. All the better—how might he have behaved if he knew she was not Jane Bingley but Elizabeth Bennet? It did not bear thinking about.

  “She is… she is…” She looked desperately at Bingley, who appeared as taken aback as she herself was.

  How had they all been reduced to this?

  It was Darcy who broke the tense silence that had descended over the table. “That is quite enough, my good man. That is no way to speak when there are ladies present.”

  Hardy smiled at Darcy—there was no warmth in the expression. Rather, it was a challenge of sorts. “I hardly think you are in a position to question my conduct.”

  “On the contrary; I feel it is my duty to do nothing less.”

  Hardy’s smile disappeared. It was replaced by a look of such malevolence that Mary, who had remained studiously silent ever since they entered the house, gasped and looked away. Elizabeth was glad she had insisted on attending the dinner in her sister’s place. Jane was with child and was not well enough to listen to such impertinent talk. Not that any of them should have been forced to hear such things.

  Oh, how she despised him! She had no doubt that the invitation to dine at his home had been intended to humiliate them. After all, they would not otherwise have dreamt of dining with such a scoundrel. But they had no choice but to play along with his pretence at respectability. Not when he held such leverage over them.

  I ought to be grateful that I was able to take Jane’s place at all, she thought as she watched the two men and prayed that Darcy had not jeopardised everything.

  It had been Elizabeth’s idea to attend the dinner in Jane’s place. She had been at Longbourn when she received Jane’s letter advising her of what had gone on. She had travelled south at once and had only arrived at Radcliffe House two days earlier. It had all happened so quickly that she had not considered what they might do if Hardy insisted on meeting Miss Bennet. How would he react if he discovered that they had misled him?

  Passing Jane off as Miss Bennet was unthinkable in her current state. Hardy had not met Kitty, but Elizabeth doubted they could convince her to come up from Cornwall. She did not know if Jane had even written to tell Kitty the news that one of Wickham’s creditors had imprisoned Wickham, Lydia and their children until his considerable debts were paid.

  She could see no way ou
t of it. Bingley had tried to hide the truth but Darcy had contradicted him. And now what was going to happen? Hardy did not seem like the sort of man who would tolerate being lied to.

  “What a delightful meal,” she said, as cheerfully as she could manage.

  Her attempt to lighten the situation did little. Darcy and Hardy were still glaring at each other with a disdain that was almost palpable.

  “Do not challenge me, sir,” Hardy growled in a low voice that positively dripped with menace. “I cannot see why your presence was required here. I extended an invitation to Bingley and his family.”

  “Bingley is a dear friend. I was a guest at his home and he invited me to accompany him as is the custom in polite society.”

  “Darcy!”

  Hardy’s brow furrowed. “I see. It is becoming all too clear what you think of my hospitality. Again, I cannot understand why you are present. This matter does not concern you.”

  Elizabeth winced. Up to that point, the conversation had been—if not polite—somewhat civil. How foolish they had been to expect Hardy to remain civil because there were ladies present.

  We should never have come here, she thought, looking desperately at Mrs. Hardy and willing her to suggest they withdraw and leave the men alone.

  “On the contrary,” Darcy snapped. “It concerns me greatly.”

  Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise. She knew he was a dear friend of Bingley’s, but she had to admit that his involvement puzzled her too. They had all tried to assure him that he might prefer to remain at Radcliffe House for the evening. He had insisted on joining them, despite what he had told Hardy moments before.