Rescuing Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Beauford, Kate

  The day of the ball dawned. Lydia and Kitty were in high spirits as they fought and squabbled over ribbons and hair ornaments and begged Elizabeth for the use of the cream gloves Aunt Gardiner had sent her from London for her birthday. Elizabeth agreed they could have whatever they wanted as long as they left her alone.

  “I suppose you will steal every dance with Wickham, Lizzy?” Lydia asked as she hovered around Elizabeth’s dressing table as the maid put the finishing touches to her hair.

  “I have no plans to dance with Mr Wickham,” she said. It was true. Wickham had visited the house several times since her last conversation with him, and though Elizabeth was polite, she could not forget his odd glee at the idea that Darcy might have come to harm. Though Wickham might have every reason to resent Darcy, she could never think well of a man who would wish harm on another. Wickham sensed her coolness and tried to interest her again by speaking of his problems, but she was no longer the lively participant she had been before. He had eventually given up, most likely to find a warmer, more sympathetic ear.

  “I hope that dull Mr Darcy will not discourage Wickham,” said Lydia fretfully as she leaned over Elizabeth to examine herself in the mirror. “He promised me he would be there, but we all know how hateful Mr Darcy has been. I hope he will not fear attending.”

  “If Mr Wickham has done no wrong, why should he not attend? It should be on Mr Darcy to avoid him, not the other way around.”

  “True, but he thinks himself so superior. I am surprised he has taken such a liking to you. I was sure he thought you beneath him.”

  Elizabeth laughed, though she felt a tightness in her chest.

  “I do not believe Mr Darcy has any such likeness for me.”

  “Oh, he does,” said Lydia as if it were a settled matter. “If there is one thing I know very well, it is men—“

  “I hope that is not true. You are fifteen.”

  “— and he looks at you a great deal. He always looks so bored and disdainful unless someone mentions you, and then he pays attention as though he’s interested. He will never marry you, of course, but it is quite a feather in your cap to attract a man like that.”

  “Thank you, Lydia, but I can promise you Mr Darcy does not care for me. Now, which officers have asked you to dance?”

  The easiest way to distract Lydia from a topic was to return the conversation to her. She happily spoke about how many men had fought to dance with her and how many declared they would expire with grief if they could not have her until Elizabeth finally persuaded her it was time to dress in her own room.

  Elizabeth wondered what her feelings would be as the carriage approached Netherfield Park. The last time she had seen this place was just hours before being abducted with Darcy. She had glimpsed her first sight of Lawson by the stable, she could see as the carriage approached the glowing, lamplit house. Harper had been there, too.

  Bingley and Darcy were waiting for them at the entrance, but Elizabeth barely noticed as she was handed out. She fixed her eyes on the corner where she could see the stables, almost certain that Lawson would walk around that corner, a pipe in his mouth and a grin on his face. She only hoped he had recovered and was somewhere safe.

  “Miss Elizabeth.” A firm voice broke through her thoughts. Mr Darcy stood before her, holding out a hand to escort her into the house. He was frowning. “Are you well?”

  “Well? Yes, of course. I was just…” Elizabeth’s voice trailed away as she looked back towards the stables.

  Darcy followed her gaze, his eyes flat. He drew her arm through his and led her to the house.

  “They are not there,” he murmured. “Remember that every time the memories feel like they might intrude.”

  “Does that happen to you?”

  Darcy grimaced. “There are certain frightening memories that are burned into my mind, yes.”

  “And how do you remind yourself that they will never happen again?”

  “Because I can see you are safe for myself.”

  Darcy did not allow her a chance to respond to his statement. He stopped as they drew near Miss Bingley and released her arm from his. With a short bow, he walked away, disappearing into the swirling, laughing crowds.

  Elizabeth’s mind was in confusion as she was also swept up into the crowds that formed her neighbours and friends, some of whom had not seen her since her return. She had to repeat the story more than once and almost missed the first dance until Mr Collins arrived to claim her. Elizabeth had been astonished when Mr Collins asked for the first dance, though she reassured herself that he had no more interest in her now that he considered her tainted.

  She reluctantly allowed him to lead her to join the lines of dancers and looked about the room with lively interest. Mrs Hurst and Caroline Bingley stood next to one another a little further down the line. Miss Bingley whispered something to her sister, and they both turned to look at Elizabeth. Miss Bingley caught Elizabeth’s eye and looked away, but not before a smile curled her lips. Elizabeth could only suppose they made sport of her appearance, and, as she cared too little for them to regard what they might say, she turned her attention back to her partner.

  Mr Collins was as terrible at dancing as Elizabeth feared. He stepped on her toes, caught his shoe in the train of her dress, turned left when he should have turned right, and made Elizabeth’s face burn when she noticed the mixture of pity and laughter on people’s faces.

  One such face was Darcy. He stood apart from everyone, as was his habit, with his arms folded. His lips twitched with a teasing smile Elizabeth had not seen since they were alone together on the road. It faded slightly when he realised Elizabeth had seen him, but he could not hide it completely.

  “I knew Cousin Lydia’s disgusting conjecture could not be true,” said Mr Collins.

  Elizabeth dragged her attention back to him and blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  Mr Collins glanced at Darcy.

  “When she suggested you had run away together. I knew it could not be true. The nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh run away with a girl who, despite your manifold charms, cousin, could never be received as a niece into Rosings Park. The very idea goes against all notions of decency.”

  “I am sorry you found it a more repulsive option than I might be in grave danger, sir,” said Elizabeth in a cool voice.

  “Yes, the danger to your reputation is very real, is it not? I am afraid this has caused a taint that will never be dispersed. Even as I walked around this room, I heard whispers among the crowd.” He gave Elizabeth a consoling smile. “But you do not need to worry. There are still some men who will forgive your indiscretion. They will be generous about your tainted state.”

  Elizabeth stared at him incredulously, too amazed at his rudeness to respond. Mr Collins must have taken her open-mouthed silence to mean she was speechless with joy. He cleared his throat, looking rather pleased, and when the dance obliged them to join their hands again, he curled his fingers around hers as though he had no intention of releasing her and tugged her a little closer.

  “And if you must know, one of these men is here tonight and willing to make you a very generous offer that will not only allow you to redeem your soiled state but also to save your family from penury.” He beamed at her, clearly thrilled by his generosity. “I see you are speechless. I understand. Perhaps you never expected an honourable man to want you. Now you may consider yourself fortunate and know that you will still have an excellent husband you even if you are tainted.”

  Elizabeth could not think what to say that would not encourage a proposal right there on the floor. She looked away from her cousin, hoping he would take it as a sign that the conversation was unwelcome. Darcy had moved away from the column. She glimpsed his tall figure walking through the crowds in the opposite direction. Mercifully, the dance soon ended, and Elizabeth escaped as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself.

  Her particular friend, Charlotte Lucas, stood near the table, having not been invited
to dance. Elizabeth gratefully moved in her direction.

  “Are you alright, Lizzy? You look rather flushed. Is your cousin a more spirited dancer than we suspected?” Charlotte asked.

  “Spirited is a generous word,” said Elizabeth. “I fear he is as determined as ever that I should be future mistress of Longbourn. He is willing to take me, even in my tainted state.” She imitated Mr Collins’s pompous way of speaking.

  A movement out of the corner of Elizabeth’s eye caught her attention. Darcy stood a few feet away from Charlotte, unnoticed until now. He looked around and seemed to see Elizabeth for the first time. He immediately placed his glass down, then bowed to her and walked away. Elizabeth’s smile faded.

  Charlotte had been oblivious to the exchange, her attention all on Elizabeth’s news. “I cannot believe it. Well, it is generous of him, I suppose.”

  “If you want to place it in that generous light, you may. But my cousin made it quite plain he thinks I will be grateful to him for accepting me, ruined as I am,” Elizabeth said in a tone of high tragedy. “I always suspected he wanted a wife from among us, not because he wished to do a kind deed, but because he had no other options. He thought he could have whichever of us he chose, and the lucky lady would feel so fortunate that she would be forever grateful to him. Now, he might have a wife who will have even more reason to be grateful to him. I imagine that might be irresistible to a man with as much self-importance with so little to base it on.”

  Charlotte made a face. “Still, it is worth considering. What does it matter if Mr Collins feels that way as long as you have a comfortable home of your own?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “You were never a romantic, Charlotte. That would never do for me. I will only marry a man I can love.”

  Charlotte’s smile was sly. “A man like Mr Wickham, perhaps?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I find the more I know of him, the less interested I am. Where is he? I do not see him, and he promised my sisters he would come.”

  “He did not attend.”

  A broken promise was another black mark against Wickham’s name. He might have been wronged, but that did not mean he was an angel.

  29

  Too afraid of being accosted by Mr Collins again, Elizabeth wandered around the edges of the room to avoid him. Darcy seemed as determined to avoid her as she was to avoid her cousin. When she saw him meet her eye, incline his head and then walk away for the second time, Elizabeth felt a flash of anger. What was he afraid of? Did he think she would throw herself at him? He might have had reason before to fear she would expect a marriage out of their experience, but she had given him no reason to think that might be the case now. It could be nothing else but that old arrogance that made him think it only natural that a woman would try to catch him. Elizabeth would not allow him the satisfaction of thinking that. When he turned and seemed like he might walk in her direction, she deliberately turned on her heel and marched away.

  Only to come face to face with Miss Bingley. The other woman smiled at her, but there was little warmth in it.

  “Miss Eliza, you must be thrilled to be back among your family and friends after your terrible experience,” she declared. “I am sure it was all dreadful for you.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “You are quite the heroine, you know. Everyone is impressed with you. All they can talk about is what you must have endured while you were captured. We have come up with the most marvellous ideas.”

  “None of them approaching anything closeness to the blandness of the situation, I am sure,” said Elizabeth with a brisk smile.

  Miss Bingley sipped from her glass, her eyes glinting at Elizabeth over the rim.

  “The most fantastical ones came from before you returned, I assure you. Miss Lydia was convinced you had run away with Mr Darcy.” Miss Bingley put her glass down and laughed. “Can you imagine such a thing? In what world would Mr Darcy run away with Miss Eliza Bennet? Oh, I mean no offence, of course. It is just that we all know how particular Mr Darcy is. As if he would run away with any woman to marry, never mind…”

  Elizabeth tilted her head, feigning confusion. “Never mind what, Miss Bingley? I am sure I do not understand your meaning.”

  Miss Bingley pursed her lips. “I simply mean that we all know Mr Darcy is unlikely to choose a girl from among the people in Hertfordshire. His family expects him to marry a woman with a fortune.”

  “I suppose Mr Darcy can choose for himself without reference to his family.”

  Miss Bingley laughed. “He could, but he would not. He is too aware of what he owes the Darcy name, not to mention his mother’s family. His uncle, the earl, would not be happy if his nephew threw himself away on a woman who could bring little to the family by way of fortune or breeding. But I am sure you know all this already and never gave a moment’s thought to him. You have other options. The servant’s son — what is his name? Ah yes, Mr Wickham. And your cousin, Mr Collins, seems most interested in you. I think you would make a good wife to such a man.”

  They both looked over to where Mr Collins was trying and failing to enter a conversation, a sickly smile on his face as the other men ignored him. Miss Bingley’s smile widened.

  “Well, I am happy to see you safe, Miss Eliza. We would all have been distraught if you had come to any harm. Still, at least the men completed their work before they took you. What do you think of the floors? I am delighted with them.”

  Elizabeth felt a strange burning in her chest. She was accustomed to Miss Bingley’s nastier remarks, and she usually laughed or ignored them, not caring enough about the lady to feel troubled. But now, when her feelings for Darcy were so raw and intense, when she was still attempting to recover from her regard, they struck home in a way they had never done before. But Elizabeth would never allow this woman to think she had upset her.

  “I suppose it is hard to know who is reliable when you were not brought up to manage a fine house,” she said. “Having grown up in trade. I am sure you will learn in time.”

  Miss Bingley’s face fell, and her cheeks flushed. Elizabeth curtseyed and walked away, not caring about her response.

  She should not have allowed Miss Bingley to get the better of her. Her remark might have been uncalled for, but to respond at all was to show how the lady had affected her. Elizabeth thought if she could escape the room without being seen, a walk in the garden would help her feel better before she had to talk to anyone again.

  No one seemed to notice as she slipped out the large glass door that led to the lawn. Elizabeth pulled her shawl closer about her as she strolled towards the gravel walk she had enjoyed when she had first stayed at Netherfield. Bingley had been careful to choose a night for the ball when the skies were clear and the moon full and high, lighting the entire garden in silver and shadows. The air was crisp and fresh, and Elizabeth breathed deeply as the purity swept some of the anger and upset from her lungs. If she did not recover from her feelings soon, she would become a watering pot, and she would not allow that. She might have lost her heart, but she would not lose her self-control.

  “Miss Bennet.” A deep, crisp voice cut through the cold air. Elizabeth started around to see a tall figure at the end of the path. He took a decisive step towards her. For a moment, she thought it was Harper, though she knew it was foolish. Her heart pounded, her hands grew damp, and she took a step backwards, bracing herself to run until the man stepped into the light cast by a lantern. Even then, she relaxed only a little.

  “Mr Darcy,” she said. “Thank goodness.”

  “Who did you think it —“ Darcy broke away and nodded as realisation dawned. “I suppose this is to be expected for a while. Eventually you will realise you are safe, and he can never come near you again.” His face tightened. “Men like him are the worst type of scoundrels. A disgrace to the name of man.”

  Elizabeth pressed a hand to her heart, which still raced. It took her a moment to catch her breath.

  “I did think you were Harper. I suppos
e being here makes me rather uneasy.”

  “Understandable.” Darcy continued to look down at her, the light of the lanterns gleaming in his dark eyes. Elizabeth’s unease took a new direction.

  “Did you come out here for air too?”

  “No. I saw you leave the ballroom. You looked distressed.”

  Elizabeth felt heat rush to her cheeks. “Not at all. Perhaps it was just the heat.”

  “Yes. Perhaps.” Darcy’s tone suggested he did not believe a word of it. “I noticed you had been speaking with Miss Bingley beforehand.”

  “I had.” Elizabeth’s smile was wry. “She had much to say about what might have happened to me while I was away. Nonetheless, she is delighted with the work they did on the floors.”

  A muscle jumped in Darcy’s jaw. “Did she say that?”

  “More or less. She has never liked me. The feeling was mutual, so I was never too concerned before.”

  “But you are concerned now.”

  Elizabeth looked away, crossing her arms to warm herself.

  “I am sorry she said such a thing,” he continued. “I know Miss Bingley can be a little cruel, but I never thought she would go so far.”

  “You have nothing to apologise for. I am not too upset. Merely a little overwhelmed by being here and being the object of such speculation.”

  “I am sure.” Darcy paused. “And then there are your impending nuptials to consider.”

  Elizabeth started. “What impending nuptials? I am not aware I am to be married, and I think I would know.”

  Darcy’s smile was grim. “I overheard Mr Collins speaking with your mother. He said he all but offered for you, and you all but accepted. They are both thrilled. He said he will ask you tomorrow and make it official.”

  “Then remind me to not be at home tomorrow. I think I would rather be back in the inn.”

  Darcy smiled. “I am sure Mr Collins is not so bad.”