Hypothetically Married_A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  Darcy took a small sip. The brandy burned a trail down his throat. “I don’t know.”

  Bingley grimaced. “You’re no help.”

  “Let’s consider the possibilities,” Darcy replied. “One possibility is that she loves you and has enough modesty and decorum not to show it.”

  Bingley’s eager expression was back. “If I knew that were the case, I would propose immediately.”

  “Another possibility is that she likes you, but doesn’t love you,” Darcy felt obliged to point out. “Would you propose then?”

  “I’m not certain,” Bingley replied.

  “Well, hypothetically, do you think if you married her under those circumstances she would be a bad wife?”

  Bingley frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Darcy suppressed a sigh. Bingley’s good nature made him a great friend, but also rendered him too naive. “Would she allow herself to fall in love with another man? Would she stop being amiable? Would she try to behave in such a way as to make you spend little time with her? Would she shirk any of her wifely duties?”

  “Certainly not,” Bingley declared, clearly affronted. “She’s too fine a person for any of the things you mentioned. How you can know her and even--”

  “The last hypothetical possibility is that she actually dislikes you and is pretending, likely because of your wealth, and plans to change after yo--”

  “No,” Bingley cried, half rising. “I know her better than that. She is a private person, but not deceitful.”

  Darcy glanced about, for Bingley’s protest and agitation had drawn attention. He returned his gaze to Bingley, waiting patiently. A flash of insight made Darcy realize some of the behaviors he’d described probably applied to Miss Bingley. Well, it was a good thing he wasn’t fooled by her. After a moment, Bingley sat back down.

  “That was a terrible thing to say,” Bingley muttered.

  “Not as terrible as you not considering the possibility and ending up unhappily married. But I also think that is very unlikely.”

  Bingley offered a sullen nod.

  “That brings us back to our earlier possibilities,” Darcy said. “You must ask yourself, would you be happy if you married her and found out she merely liked you but didn’t love you?”

  Bingley was silent for a long moment. His eyes, abstract, were aimed at the wall behind Darcy. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know. Worse, I’ve thought of another hypothetical.”

  “Oh?” Darcy rather thought he’d covered them all.

  “She does like me.” For some reason, Bingley sounded miserable. “She’s so fine a person, she might not want to disappoint me. She might marry me not because she wishes to, but because she can’t bear to see me unhappy.”

  Darcy smiled slightly. “I believe, my friend, that marrying a man out of consideration for his happiness is something only a woman in love would do.”

  That brought a besotted smile to Bingley’s face.

  “Do you think she’s an intelligent person who can look at possibilities and consider them?” Darcy asked.

  “Like we’re doing now?” Bingley nodded. “Yes. She’s smarter than I am.”

  “Then present her with a hypothetical,” Darcy suggested.

  Bingley shook his head. “How can I? She would know what I’m asking. It would be tantamount to a proposal.”

  “I suppose I could ask Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said. “They’re sisters. She’ll likely know what Miss Bennet is thinking, and she’s intelligent and honest enough not to mislead me if she doesn’t.”

  This time, Bingley’s smile was relieved. “That’s the best idea you’ve had all evening,” he said, and raised his glass in salute.

  ***

  Darcy and Elizabeth tended to easily outwalk the others, her strong stride one of the things that made her an excellent walking companion. In compensation, they often took what she jokingly referred to as long-cuts. These took them out of the way but kept them in sight of the others, returning them to the path later.

  “Let’s see how the flowers are coming along today,” Elizabeth suggested, pointing toward the large bed.

  He nodded, and they left the path the others meandered down. They were tulips, Darcy believed, specially imported from Holland. A large swath had been planted through a lawn central to the looped trail. He and Elizabeth often made several circuits, gauging the height of the leaves.

  “You’ve spent a good deal of time in London,” Elizabeth said as they walked down one side, the buds still tightly closed. “What color will they be?”

  Darcy frowned. Indeed, he spent most springs in London, but generally not in the park, and not looking at flowers. “I can’t recall. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen them.”

  “Truly?” She sounded surprised. “You don’t usually enjoy the park?”

  “On the contrary, it’s one of the more pleasant venues in London, but I usually ride.”

  “Not walk?”

  He cast her a warm smile. “I hadn’t anyone to walk with.”

  “Oh,” she said and glanced away, but turned back almost immediately. “Well then, we shall discover what color they are together.”

  He was on the verge of saying he’d enjoy that when he recalled that was precisely the sort of thing he shouldn’t say to a woman he wasn’t encouraging, and who wasn’t interested in him. Instead, he decided to turn the conversation to Bingley’s quandary. “Remember the hypothetical situation I talked about when I first met you in London?”

  “Why a woman would hide that she cared for a man, or why she wouldn’t hide that she did not?” Unaccountably, Elizabeth blushed as she spoke.

  “The first,” he replied. “I was hoping to ask you about a similar situation.”

  “Truly?” She cast him a quick look. “The only woman, that I know of at least, who has recently been reacquainted with a gentleman is Miss Bingley. I daresay she made no attempt to hide how she feels.” Elizabeth’s amused tone was underscored by a brittle edge.

  Darcy digested that but could sort no reason from it. “Miss Bingley?”

  “In your hypothetical situation, this new woman is happy to see a man she knows, but then hides her happiness. Or am I recalling incorrectly?”

  “Your recollection is exact, but I’m not speaking of Miss Bingley and, if I may be frank, don’t generally prefer to. She is in no way my reason for invoking this conversation.”

  Elizabeth’s glance was brief, but something bright shimmered in her eyes. “Noted, and I apologize for my assumption. Tell me, then, of what we are speaking?”

  Darcy gave his head a slight shake, thoroughly confused, and reapplied himself to Bingley’s troubles. “Suppose, hypothetically, that a man wants to marry a woman only if she loves him. While he is sure she likes him, he can’t tell if she loves him. She’s a very private person. Could he find out her heart by asking someone close to her?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes were wide. She darted a look into the distance, where Miss Bennet and Bingley walked. “Are you telling me this hypothetical gentleman has stated his love?”

  “Hypothetically, yes,” Darcy allowed.

  Elizabeth watched the two for a longer moment. When she turned back to Darcy, her smile was wide. “May I assume the man in question isn’t comfortable asking the person who is close to the woman he loves?”

  “You may,” Darcy said, relieved that she clearly understood who he was speaking about. “In fact, you may assume the gentleman asked a good friend to obtain the information.”

  “So, instead of the couple talking to each other, the man asks his friend, a man, I presume?”

  Darcy nodded.

  “To ask the woman’s friend,” Elizabeth continued. “May I then assume that the woman’s friend is a woman?”

  Darcy nodded again, unable to suppress a smile.

  Amusement and delight danced in Elizabeth’s eyes. “So, this woman is to ask her friend if she is in love with the first gentleman?”

  “Hypothetically,” Darcy sai
d.

  “Well then, hypothetically, she would take the task.”

  “Good,” Darcy said. The whole thing sounded so convoluted the way Elizabeth put it, but he wasn’t certain he wanted to admit that Bingley had asked him to ask Elizabeth to talk to Miss Bennet. After all, there was a chance Miss Bennet didn’t love Bingley. In that case, they would all wish to pretend the question had never been issued.

  “We have made an assumption here,” Elizabeth said.

  “I think we’ve made several assumptions,” Darcy said, pretending a seriousness that he did not feel. What he truly wished was to laugh. “Which one do you mean?”

  She studied him, eyes oddly intent. “We’ve assumed that the man who is a friend of the potential groom is a friend of the woman who is a friend of the potential bride,” Elizabeth said. “After all, the task wouldn’t be trusted to a mere acquaintance.”

  “I think that’s a reasonable assumption,” Darcy said. “But it is only friendship.” He suppressed a sigh.

  “Yes, of course,” she murmured, turning her gaze back to the flowerbed they walked alongside.

  “They both want it that way,” Darcy felt obligated to say. Had his avowal of friendship disappointed her? Was friendship not what she sought?

  “True. They both want it that way,” Elizabeth agreed, crushing his half-formed hope.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Elizabeth mulled over Darcy’s words for the remainder of the walk, occasionally too distracted to do justice to their conversation. Not what he’d said about the hypothetical question of love. His meaning there was abundantly clear. In fact, his words were a source of joy. One she would like to be embracing.

  Instead, her thoughts kept returning to his avowal of friendship. Just as with his hypothetical couple, his meaning couldn’t be any clearer. He wished them to remain friends, and only friends.

  She was glad he’d reconfirmed that assumption. She liked him too much to mislead him into thinking that she wanted to marry him, and she assumed he liked her too much to want to mislead her. It was best if they both remembered that. Really, it was. She was glad it was settled.

  It took her the remainder of the day to find a time to speak to Jane alone. She finally saw her chance after dinner when their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, Uncle Phillips and Kitty sat down to a game of whist. She waited while the cards were dealt.

  As soon as play commenced, Elizabeth turned to Jane with a smile. “Jane, could you come look at what I brought from Meryton and give me your advice on what to wear tomorrow? I find the weather’s been growing warmer, but it’s still rather cool out.”

  Jane looked up from the hem she was repairing with inquisitive eyes. It was obvious she felt Elizabeth needed her advice on garments as much as a general required troop placement suggestions from the company cook. Still, she nodded and set her sewing aside. Kitty shot them a curious look but returned her attention to her hand when Elizabeth offered a slight shake of her head. If all went well, they could tell Kitty later that evening when the three of them retired to the room they shared.

  Elizabeth hurried Jane toward their room. Once there, she closed the door firmly behind them. She turned back to find Jane watching her with confused eyes.

  “Lizzy, whatever is it?”

  Elizabeth offered a reassuring smile and gestured to the beds, which filled most of the small room. “Sit with me.”

  Elizabeth settled onto the edge of the larger bed, which she shared with Kitty. Jane sat across from her on the narrow one in which she slept. With little preamble, Elizabeth told Jane first of her original conversation with Mr. Darcy, at least in so far as it pertained to Jane, and then launched into their talk that afternoon. When she reached the part of about the hypothetical gentleman declaring his love to his friend, Jane’s eyes brimmed over with tears.

  Jane pulled out a handkerchief to blot her eyes, reminding Elizabeth that she still hadn’t returned Mr. Darcy’s to him. She hadn’t even laundered it. Keeping his handkerchief was an odd, silly act, but one she persisted in.

  He likely didn’t even recall giving it to her, and she didn’t know why she treasured the small square of fabric so much, but she did. When she was alone, she liked to take it out and trace his initials. Oftentimes, she would hold it to her face and inhale the smell of his laundry and shaving soaps. Somehow, having Mr. Darcy’s handkerchief made her feel more complete in a way she hadn’t since losing her parents and Longbourn. Maybe it was because he exuded such a sense of dependability.

  “And then what?” Jane urged, handkerchief clutched in both hands.

  Elizabeth realized she’d lost the thread of her story. She pressed thoughts of her silly hidden treasure aside and returned to the declaration of love Mr. Bingley had imparted to Mr. Darcy, hypothetically. She finished the rest of the telling as rapidly as she could.

  More tears spilled down Jane’s cheeks. When her lips could be seen behind the dabbing handkerchief, her smile was radiant. Elizabeth couldn’t help but issue an answering smile. Tears stung her eyes, too, but she blinked them back.

  “So,” she finally said, “it comes down to this. Do you love Mr. Bingley?”

  “Oh, yes,” Jane said, still crying. “With all my heart.” She leapt up, obviously full of energy she had no outlet for. “Oh, Lizzy, this is such wonderful news. All this time, I thought he didn’t love me. I’ve been spending time with him so I could store up the memories for when his interest moved on.” The words spilled out of her. “Now, I’ll have new memories every day.”

  “Why didn’t you at least hint to him how you feel?” Elizabeth asked, truly curious. To let the sort of love Jane felt for Mr. Bingley slip away without trying would be a terrible travesty, one they’d both come close to committing.

  “He is the most wonderful of men and the thought of hurting me would upset him,” Jane said. “Don’t you see that I couldn’t do that to him? I couldn’t show how I feel.”

  Elizabeth nodded, though she wasn’t fully convinced Jane’s strategy was correct.

  “Thank you, Lizzy,” Jane said, her eyes radiant through her tears.

  Elizabeth stood and embraced her sister. Happiness surged within her, but she suspected it didn’t come near Jane’s own joy. Hugging Jane close, Elizabeth wondered if she would ever know how it felt to have the man she loved ask for her hand.

  ***

  The next day, on their usual afternoon walk, Elizabeth set out with a more hurried stride than usual. She felt nearly giddy at the prospect of imparting the happy news. As the eight of them spent considerable time together, she’d come to know Mr. Bingley well since the afternoon they first encountered the gentlemen in the park. She felt him to be affable, likeable and, if one discounted the idea of someone being too nice, all things good. She couldn’t imagine a better match for her sweet, lovely sister, or for the amiable Mr. Bingley.

  “You seem as if you have news,” Mr. Darcy prompted as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.

  Elizabeth couldn’t contain her smile, though she knew it gave Jane’s answer away. “Jane is deeply in love with Mr. Bingley,” she declared, and proceeded to recount much of what Jane had said the previous evening.

  “I am sure they will be very happy together,” Mr. Darcy said, answering Elizabeth’s smile with one of his own.

  Though she’d suspected from his cooperation that he approved of the match, she was relieved to have her supposition confirmed. That was one down, then. One of her main objections to Mr. Darcy. The first, now nearly forgotten, had turned out to be a lie on Wickham’s part. The second, splitting up Jane and Mr. Bingley, had obviously been done for love of his friend.

  Sadly, the outstanding obstacle to them ever being more than friends wasn’t so easily resolved. After all, what was one to do about being barely tolerable? Elizabeth could parade about in low cut, highly decorated gowns like Miss Bingley did, but if that worked on Mr. Darcy, he’d already be wed.

  Not, she reminded herself firmly, that it really mattered.
She didn’t want him to want more than friendship from her. Unfortunately, as they walked side by side across the lawn in the bright winter sun, she was having a terrible time recalling why.

  “Let’s go this way,” Mr. Darcy suggested, angling them away from the tulip bed.

  A glance showed his concentration on the couple coming up the gravel walk, Jane and Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bingley seemed to see them, as well, for he said something to Jane and adjusted their course. They all met beneath the naked, snow glazed limbs of a single oak.

  “Bingley, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy greeted.

  “How are you finding the weather today, Mr. Darcy?” Jane asked. “Elizabeth expressed concern that it’s growing too warm for her preferred pace.”

  “Yes, Darcy,” Mr. Bingley said, his voice oddly strained. “How is the weather? Amiable? Agreeable? In accord?”

  “As you can see for yourself, the weather is lovely,” Mr. Darcy replied, emphasizing the word love.

  “Lovely?” Bingley repeated, his gaze going to Jane.

  Elizabeth had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. She hoped the gentlemen didn’t believe themselves subtle. She made to exchange an amused look with Jane, but her sister’s attention was riveted on Mr. Bingley.

  Realizing Mr. Darcy’s and her presence was no longer required, Elizabeth said, “Yes, quite lovely, and definitely perfect for walking fast, as I believe we should return to doing. Don’t you agree, Mr. Darcy?”

  “I do.”

  As quickly as propriety permitted, they hurried away. When the eight of them convened at the end of the walk, Mr. Bingley announced that Jane had accepted his proposal. He promised to call on them at the Gardiners’ that evening, to talk to their uncle.

  Uncle Phillips gave his blessing, for Jane was old enough not to require his permission. Congratulations were given all round, even by Lady Catherine. As no one saw any reason to wait, especially Jane and Mr. Bingley, the wedding was planned for as soon as the banns were read. This, of course, sparked a flurry of activity.

  Several afternoons later, while Mrs. Gardiner and Jane were out making arrangements for Jane’s trousseau, Elizabeth and Kitty took the Gardiner children to the park. As usual for a sunny day, other children were already playing there, many known to their cousins. Soon, Elizabeth and Kitty sat alone on a bench, watching the youngsters play.