A Pemberley Medley (A Pride & Prejudice Variation)

by Abigail Reynolds

  Georgiana, shy as ever, quickly excused herself from the scene of the reunion, and it was not long afterwards that Bingley announced that it was time for them to refresh themselves from the effects of a long day’s travel. There was something in the way his eyes rested on Jane, however, that led Elizabeth, with her now greater knowledge of these matters, to believe that it might be some time before the couple made a reappearance. She smiled at the warm look in Jane’s eyes as she blushed lightly before withdrawing, and watched after the disappearing couple with deep satisfaction over their apparent felicity.

  She was not the only one with such thoughts, she discovered, as she felt a pair of warm arms slip around her from behind. She rested back against his beloved form, trembling at the rush of desire that ran through her as his lips delicately explored the sensitive skin of her neck. It was a familiar feeling now, that aching need that he could provoke in her so easily, especially as his proficiency in delighting her senses grew. She bore the subtle torture of his touch as long as she could, then turned to catch his mouth with hers, no longer afraid or ashamed to show him her desire. After sating herself with the pleasure of his lips, she leaned against him once more with a contented sigh.

  “Soon, my dearest,” he whispered in her ear. “Soon it will be our turn.”

  Such Differing Reports

  I’ve always felt that Charlotte Lucas was underrated. She may have married a foolish man, but her observations were always spot on. Elizabeth should have known that, yet she ignores Charlotte more than once when her friend suggests that Mr. Darcy is partial to her. What would have happened if Elizabeth had believed her?

  Darcy felt the now-familiar pounding of his heart as he approached the parsonage at Hunsford. The prospect of being in the same room with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of seeing the sparkle in her fine eyes, of breathing the very air she breathed, was enough to make him dizzy. He should be avoiding her. His fascination with her was placing him at risk of exciting her expectations. Darcy shook his head in disgust. Who was he trying to fool? He was the moth to her flame, and he could not stay away. At least Mrs. Collins and her sister would be there to protect him from saying anything foolish.

  The maid let him in, bobbing a clumsy curtsey. He strode past her to the drawing room and opened the door to see Elizabeth leaning down to slide a letter into the drawer of the small writing desk. Her face held a startled expression, like that of a doe in the woods. The sunlight pouring in the window behind her made her simple blue dress appear to shimmer around the edges. Darcy was so dazzled that it was a moment before he realized she was alone.

  Why had the maid said nothing? But he could not bring himself to regret the opportunity to have Elizabeth to himself. Belatedly he bowed. “I apologize for my intrusion, Miss Bennet. I had understood all the ladies to be within.”

  She gave him an arch look as she pushed the drawer closed behind her. “Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas are gone on business into the village. They should not be away long.”

  He took the seat she indicated, responding automatically to her enquiries after Rosings, more interested in her lively expression than in her words. As usual, he hardly knew what to say in her presence, but it was enough to look upon her.

  After a few moments of silence, she said, “How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London.”

  “Perfectly so—I thank you.”

  There was another short pause before she replied, “I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?”

  He was impressed by her calm words. No other lady would have shown such an understanding of his need to protect his friend, when it involved denying her sister an advantageous marriage. But perhaps Elizabeth saw no need for her sister to marry well because she pictured herself as the future mistress of Pemberley. He must be more careful to hide his feelings. “I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing.”

  “If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But perhaps Mr. Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same principle.”

  “I should not be surprised,” said Darcy, “if he were to give it up, as soon as any eligible purchase offers.”

  Elizabeth made no answer, turning her face from him. Did she know that her profile fascinated him? If only he could taste her delicate cheekbones with his lips. In an attempt to steer his mind away from that delightful prospect, he said, “This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford.” It was a reminder of the difference in their station.

  “I believe she did—and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object.” Elizabeth gave him an arch look.

  He smiled at her graceful acknowledgment of her cousin’s flaws. “Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife.”

  “Yes, indeed; his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding—though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her.”

  Was she giving him a hint? He cast about for words. “It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends.”

  “An easy distance do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles.”

  “And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day’s journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance.”

  “I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match,” cried Elizabeth. “I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family.”

  Her vehemence caught him by surprise until he remembered her propensity for stating opinions not her own. He was quite willing to tease back. “It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.”

  A pretty flush crept up Elizabeth’s cheeks. “I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expense of travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow of frequent journeys—and I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under less than half the present distance.”

  He could not help himself. He drew his chair a little towards her, and said, “You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn.” The intoxicating scent of Elizabeth and rosewater drifted over him.

  Elizabeth looked surprised, and he realized he had gone too far. He drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and glanced over it. When he thought he could trust his voice, he asked, “Are you pleased with Kent?”

  A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side calm and concise—and soon put an end to by the entrance of Mrs. Collins and her sister, just returned from their walk. Mrs. Collins’ look of surprise at their tête-à-tête reminded Darcy of the impropriety of his visit, and he related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding on Miss Bennet. He hardly knew what else to say, and made his excuses to depart as soon as he could.

>   Still, his feet seemed to drag as he set off down the path to Rosings. He wanted to see Elizabeth’s arch smile again, but he could see clearly that he was in more danger than he thought. He would have to stay away from the parsonage. But even as he thought it, he knew that by the next morning, his resolve would have paled before his need to be in her presence.

  “What can be the meaning of this!” said Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. “My dear Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never have called on us in this familiar way.”

  “I can hardly think so, Charlotte,” Elizabeth reassured her with a laugh. “You were not here; we could hardly keep a conversation going! Each time I raised a subject, he would exhaust it in a few words, and then lapse into silence. He is so far from being in love with me as to be loathe even to converse with me!”

  “I suppose it is not very likely, then,” agreed her friend, “yet he does appear to have quite an interest in you. Have you never noticed how he watches you? – and you were the only lady apart from Bingley’s sisters he honoured with his hand for a dance at the Netherfield ball.”

  Elizabeth put a hand affectionately on Charlotte’s shoulder. “He looks at me only to criticize, dearest Charlotte! Do you not recall that he found me tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him?” She imitated his voice as she repeated his words with a smile.

  Charlotte continued to look dubious, however. “We shall see, I suppose. But Eliza, just think – if you were to have made such a conquest!” There was not a doubt in her mind that all her friend’s dislike would vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power. But she did not think it right to press the subject any further, from the danger of raising expectations which might only end in disappointment.

  Afterwards Elizabeth found that she could not put the conversation out of her mind. Mr. Darcy in love with her? It seemed a completely ridiculous notion, yet Charlotte’s judgment and observation in these matters had often proved better than her own. She could not believe it to be true, but she found that she could not completely discount the idea either, and resolved to observe him more closely in the future

  She had ample opportunity, as the two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking to the Parsonage almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their aunt. It was plain to Elizabeth that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended him still more; and she was reminded by her own satisfaction in being with him, as well as by his evident admiration, of her former favourite George Wickham; and though, in comparing them, she saw there was less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s manners, she believed he might have the best informed mind.

  But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was very difficult to understand. With Charlotte’s caution in mind, Elizabeth watched him covertly when they next were at Rosings; but without much success. She knew not what to make of him. He certainly looked at her a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind.

  No sooner would she reach the resolution that her initial impression of him had been correct than sudden doubts would assail her. On his visits to Hunsford he frequently sat there ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice – a sacrifice to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really animated, and this seemed absolute proof of his disinterest, but then Colonel Fitzwilliam’s occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was generally different. Her own knowledge of him could not have told her that, and she began to wonder why he was so different in her company.

  She did not begin to be concerned that his feelings were seriously engaged, however, until once in her ramble within the Park she unexpectedly met him. She assumed that he would meet her with a few formal enquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but to her surprise he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He did not say a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking much, but he seemed to attend to her more intimately than was strictly necessary, and there was that in his manner which seemed somehow different from his behaviour in her presence in the past. She could not quite identify what the difference was, but afterwards, as she thought back upon the occasion, she decided that it would be best not to offer him anything which might be seen as encouragement.

  She was sensible to the compliment of such a man’s affection, though she could not help but be bewildered by how it had come to pass that he should admire her, after having withstood her charms at their earlier meetings. Apart from his request to dance with her at Netherfield, there had been nothing resembling a courtship. She supposed it must be a passing fancy, since so proud a man would certainly never propose to a woman with her low connections. Still, she did not desire to occasion any pain to him, and so determined to do her best to put a stop to any ideas he might have about her interest in him.

  Therefore she was prepared the following day when once again she came upon him in the grove. His presence there was confirmation enough of her suspicions, as there would be no reason for him to be in that same spot unless he was awaiting her. He again said little, but at one point seemed to suggest that on her future visits to Kent she would be staying at Rosings. Startled, she realized this was more serious than she had thought.

  She chose her words with care. “Mr. Darcy,” she said slowly, “I wonder if I might ask your opinion on something.”

  He placed his hand over her gloved one. “Certainly. I would be happy to be of use to you.”

  She could feel the warmth of his hand through her glove. This was not proceeding as she had planned. “Suppose, sir, you had a sister whom you loved dearly.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “That is not at all difficult to imagine, since I do have a such a sister.”

  Emboldened, Elizabeth continued. “Suppose, then, that she met a gentleman who engaged her affections, and who appeared to return them. But then he disappeared without word, leaving everyone to suppose his friends had interfered with the match. Would you be inclined to think kindly toward those friends?”

  His brow darkened, and Elizabeth feared she had gone too far in her accusation. But she would not allow his anger to intimidate her, so she stood her ground.

  He spoke finally through clenched teeth, saying each word distinctly. “What did he tell you?”

  Elizabeth shook her head in confusion. “He? The gentleman, or his friend?”

  “You know perfectly well of whom I speak. I repeat, what did he tell you?”

  “Indeed, sir, neither of them told me anything. It was merely an observation….”

  “I must know. What did Wickham tell you?”

  Elizabeth blinked. “Mr. Wickham? What has he to do with this?”

  “Everything, as you well know! What did he say about my sister?”

  She was beginning to feel frightened by his anger, and took a step away. “Your sister, sir? Why, nothing to speak of.”

  She could see he was trying to calm himself. “Miss Bennet, I must insist you tell me. It is a matter of the utmost urgency.”

  For a moment she almost took pity on his clear distress, but the illogical nature of the conversation stopped those natural feelings. “He spoke very little of her, only to say she was handsome and highly accomplished.”

  “But what of his connection to her?”

  “Why, nothing, except that she had been fond of him when she was a child, before she became proud like….” She realized just in time the danger of what she was about to say.

  His mouth curled. “As a child, indeed. Why, then, did you raise this question to me, if he said nothing more to you?”

  “This question? What question?”

  “About my sister!”
>
  Finally, comprehension dawned, though the matter of Mr. Wickham’s connection remained a mystery. “I was speaking of my own sister, Mr. Darcy, not yours.”

  “Your sister?”

  “Yes, my dear Jane, who is now not only heart-broken but also exposed to the world’s derision for disappointed hopes!” The thought of Jane’s distress renewed Elizabeth’s anger toward Mr. Darcy. “And if I am not mistaken, you were pleased by the outcome!”

  His countenance changed as if she had slapped him. “I cannot deny it.”

  His proud words removed the last vestiges of control from her temper. “I believe I have heard quite enough. Good day, Mr. Darcy.” She turned her back on him in what she hoped was an unmistakeable manner, then walked off without a backwards look. The nerve of the man, to admit straight out that he had opposed a match between Mr. Bingley and Jane! At least he could no longer be in doubt as to her own feelings toward him. She doubted he would trouble her again.