Elizabeth, Darcy, and Me: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (Elizabeth and Her Sisters Book 1)

by Georgina Young-Ellis

  I cleared my throat as I approached with a bucket of oats, and captured their attention though I didn’t mean to. Or, at least, I didn’t think I did.

  “Christopher,” said Mr. Bingley kindly, “what is it?”

  “Oh, nothing, sir,” I replied. And then before I could stop myself: “It’s just that…”

  “Go on,” said Mr. Darcy.

  “I met one of the Bennet girls a couple of days ago.”

  “You did?” Mr. Bingley’s eyes widened with interest.

  “Yes. I was taking a walk. I must have wandered close to the Bennet house.”

  “In the village of Longbourn, I believe,” Mr. Bingley added enthusiastically.

  “Yes, I believe so. At any rate, I was admiring the natural beauty of the area, when I came across a young lady seated, most becomingly, upon a bough. I spoke to her.”

  “She said she was a Bennet girl?’

  “Yes, Mary Bennet.”

  “Mr. Bennet did not say the names of his daughters; I do not know which are his eldest two,” Mr. Bingley said.

  “I could not guess her age. She might be my age, or older. She was very sophisticated.”

  “A sophisticated young lady wandering by herself in the out of doors, lounging upon a tree branch?” Mr. Darcy said with disdain. “It seems to me that a gentleman who treasures his daughters as you say Mr. Bennet does, Bingley, would not let them meander about unescorted.”

  “She seemed a very sensible sort to me,” I ventured. “As a matter of fact…” I did not know if I should say more.

  “Go on, dear boy,” Mr. Bingley encouraged.

  “She presented quite a lovely picture, there, seated amongst the autumn leaves, the late afternoon sun tinging her cheeks with its rosy glow.” I had almost forgotten I was speaking out loud.

  “A poet!” cried Mr. Darcy, not unkindly. “She sounds quite lovely.”

  “She was.” I could feel the color rise in my cheeks. I had said more than I meant to.

  “Whether she is one of the elder daughters or not, if any of them resemble her in the least, I hasten to say they must be quite beautiful,” I added, encouraged by the men’s interest.

  “You see, Darcy?” Mr. Bingley cried, smiling broadly. “There you have it. Beautiful and sensible. What more could you ask for?”

  “Well.” Mr. Darcy looked into Gypsy’s knowing expression as if he could find an answer there.

  “It is not my place to say,” I couldn’t help but utter, “but I agree with Mr. Bingley. You should go, Mr. Darcy. What harm would it do? And you might find the company pleasing.”

  Mr. Darcy finally smiled with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Your audacious young groom has convinced me, Bingley. I shall go. But I say again, I shall not dance!”

  “Very well, Darcy. It is a decent compromise,” Mr. Bingley replied with a grin.

  “Will I come to tend your horses, sirs?” I asked.

  “We will be taking the carriage,” Mr. Bingley said, not unkindly, “since my sisters and Mr. Hurst will be coming too, but you may ride up top with the driver, and look after the horses when we arrive.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I exclaimed. Though I would not be admitted to the party, I might peek from some convenient vantage point, and thereby catch a glimpse of the beauteous Mary Bennet.

  Chapter 3

  I have been persuaded to attend the Meryton assembly this week. I do not find much enjoyment in these affairs, and, truth be told, I am not feeling particularly well. Kitty, I believe, has given me her cold, but I will fight through the malaise as it is rumored Mr. Bingley is to be there with a large party of friends, and I am most curious to see him. He came by the other morning but Father would not allow us into the library while he was there, and so all we saw of him from the window was that he wore a blue coat and rode a black horse. That insolent young groom of his, Christopher Jones, apparently did not attend him.

  Once we were all dressed for the assembly, I observed how lovely Elizabeth and Jane looked in their gowns. Their garments are not new, but mother helped them sew on a bit of new ribbon here, a bit of lace there, and as a result, no one will know they are perhaps not of the very latest mode. Kitty and Lydia complained all the way there about their lack of new finery, but once we entered the assembly room, their excitement in finding a bevy of red-coated officers there assuaged them. No one cares much what I wear, but I thought I looked quite fetching in an old gown of Jane’s. It is far from the latest fashion, but the pale blue trim around the neck shows off my eyes, I believe. Mother did up my hair at the last minute, with very little patience, so at least I am presentable in the company.

  I always feel awkward in the first few moments of walking into a room with so many people, especially when there are strangers present. I stayed behind my sisters to avoid notice, and indeed, they are all so prodigiously beautifuleven Kitty is beginning to bloomthat no one bothered to look at me. Lydia, though the youngest, has surpassed both Kitty and I already in maturity of face and figure. And though I am older than both Kitty and Lydia, I seem to be late to blossom. I am not handsome, I know, but please, do not mistake my self-deprecation for pity. A pleasing appearance is the least important attribute a young woman should seek to develop. Accomplishments, piety, and strength of character are the qualities that truly matter.

  I looked hungrily at the pianoforte prominently situated in the room, but have been told not to put myself forward in that area without being invited first, and so I took a seat and observed the proceedings. Kitty and Lydia made directly for the officers and began to flirt without shame. Jane and Elizabeth sought out their dear friend Charlotte Lucas, while Mother gossiped with Lady Lucas and the other women. Father had stayed at home, not being fond of these kinds of affairs. After a quarter of an hour or so, there was a bustle at the door, and three gentlemen entered with two ladies. Two of the gentleman were tall and handsomeone dark haired, the other fair, and the third was older and rather plump. The two ladies were both very elegant, one on the arm of the plump fellow, and the other clutching, rather protectively, the arm of the dark-haired man. Word soon spread around the room that the fair-haired gentleman was the much sought-after Mr. Bingley, and his dark-haired friend a Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of a great estate called Pemberley in Derbyshire. The attractive woman on his arm was Mr. Bingley’s sister, Caroline, and the other lady and gentleman were Mr. Bingley’s other sister and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst.

  I watched with fascination as Mr. Bingley caught Jane’s eye, and, like two magnets, they were slowly drawn to one another, all smiles and blushes, and Sir William Lucas introduced them. Yet Mr. Darcy merely gazed around the room with a supercilious air, and only with great condescension deigned to speak to those to whom he was introduced. Caroline Bingley had much the same haughty demeanor, but seemed to think it was not beneath her station to join her brother in becoming acquainted with Jane.

  Lizzy danced with all who invited her, and flew through the steps with great energy and flair. Oh, how I wish I had the grace and quickness of foot she possesses. I saw Mr. Darcy staring at her and thought he must long to dance with her as well, but though he passed near her once when she was seated, without a partner for one of the reels I know she adores, he only looked at her, and said something to Mr. Bingley, who was standing near. It appeared he must have been talking about her, though what he said had obviously displeased her, for I saw the color rise in her cheeks as she looked down to examine something on her gown. I stood to go to her, but could not make my way through the crowd before Charlotte Lucas rescued her and made her laugh.

  During the course of the evening, Jane danced nearly every dance, twice with Mr. Bingley. Even Charlotte was honored by his attentions. When the party began to break up and we were making our way to the door, Sir William took us girls aside and told us he would be having a gathering at Lucas Lodge in a few days’ time and he hoped we would all attend. He told me he hoped I would honor his guests with some music, for which I
was most gratified. He then turned to Miss Bingley, who was passing by with her brother, and remarked to her that I was, in his estimation, one of the most accomplished young women of his acquaintance. I swallowed the pride that bubbled up in me at having been so distinguished, and vowed to practice long and hard before the event in order to justify his praise.

  In the interim between the assembly and the dinner at Lucas Lodge, Jane and Elizabeth were invited to dine a couple of times with other friends in the neighborhood, apparently in company with Mr. Bingley, happily for Jane, and Mr. Darcy, unhappily, I’m sure, for Lizzy. My younger sisters expressed their upset at not having been invited every time, but the excitement caused by the anticipation of what was to be enjoyed at Lucas Lodge assuaged them. I was excited too, but nervous, because my talents were to be put upon display.

  We arrived and noted that the two aforementioned gentlemen were already there, as well as the ladies who had accompanied them before. Father retired to the library with Mr. Hurst and some of the other older men, and before much time had passed Elizabeth was applied to by Sir William to play upon the piano and sing. I couldn’t help but feel slighted at first, and yet, as my elder sister, it is only appropriate that she receives her proper due before I. I love my Lizzy dearly, but I’m sorry to say, she has not been properly enough trained to do herself much justice at the instrument, though her voice is sweet in its own way. I observed that man Mr. Darcy staring at her as she played. How insolent!

  Finally, she finished, and Sir William glanced in my direction and motioned to the instrument. I eagerly approached, settled my mind, arranged the music I had brought for the occasion, and then regaled the audience with a long and complex concertoone I have been working on for some time, and which I know I perform excellently. Indeed, the quiet in the room as I played was proof enough that the guests were transfixed.

  When I finished, and acknowledged the enthusiastic applause, I placed my hands on the keyboard in ready for another, but Lydia quickly applied to me for a Scotch air so there could be dancing. I was disappointed. If people spent half as much time improving themselves with serious music, literature, and other lofty pursuits as with dancing, the world would be a much better place. And yet I obliged. From my vantage point I observed the room as I played (this kind of music is so easy that it requires little of my attention).

  There seemed to be a tête à tête between Lizzy and Mr. Darcy, which left both looking perturbed. I don’t know why she bothered to speak to that man, except, I suppose, from sheer politeness. He seems quite the arrogant one, and though I spoke to him not once, I feel it safe to say I do not, nor cannot, like him. I do not know how he is a friend to the charming Mr. Bingley.

  Chapter 4

  Sadly, I was to see nothing of Mary Bennet at the assembly in Meryton. As the guests came and went, I was busy helping to tend to Mr. Bingley’s horses and the carriage. But when I caught wind that there was to be another large gathering at a place called Lucas lodge, I made sure to go along atop the carriage again. After I was done securing the horses and vehicles, I went to join the other grooms and servants who had accompanied their masters, in the service room. One mischievous young maid showed me a door, left ajar, through which I could observe the festivities. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy both comported themselves like true gentleman. Truly, there could not be a man or woman in the place who would not be impressed both by Mr. Bingley’s friendliness, and Mr. Darcy’s noble manner. I don’t know which I should model myself after more, if I ever become a person of means and stature such as they.

  I finally got to see all the Bennet sisters together. It was apparent who they were, partly because they dressed in a similar manner, and partly because they each bore a slight resemblance to each other, but more so to their mother and father. They are all lovely, but my Mary…no! How dare I refer to her as my Mary! The words just slipped out of my quill before I could stop them! I must not think of her so. She is so far above me; I could never reach her. Oh, how my heart aches with such a realization.

  Let me begin again. Mary Bennet is not the most beautiful of her sisters. Some might even see her as plain in comparison with the other four, but since I first saw her alone, without any other woman in her company with which to liken her, she remains, in my eyes, infinitely charming. There is such discernment in her expression. She sees everything around her with sharp observationoh, I love the intelligent arch of her eyebrow! There I go again. I must control myself. But then, after her sister had played a few nice tunes upon the piano, Mary took over the instrument and astounded me, and everyone else, I should think, with her incredible ability! I know nothing of music of that sort, but the piece she played was so long, and was made up of so many notes, which she played so quickly, it must be a very great one. At least, it was gorgeous to me. And then, sweet angel that she is, she stayed seated at the piano and played so the others could dance. I’m sure if she had stood up, she would have been applied to by many to dance herself, but she was never given the opportunity. She sacrificed herself so others could enjoy their time more. She is so dear.

  And now I am sick.

  Jane was invited to Netherfield, and mother insisted she go on horseback, scheming, in her way, that it would rain and Jane would be forced to remain there. Oh! She infuriates us all with her devious plots. I say, if romance is to unfurl, let nature take its course! However, mother will never see it that way. Anyway, her device worked out well because, indeed, it did begin to rain shortly after Jane left, and she sent us word she would remain at Netherfield. Then, this morning, we received further word that she has caught a terrible cold. I am beside myself with guilt, because surely she caught it from me, and the rain couldn’t have helped at all. She could die! She could become ill with pneumonia and die, and whose fault will it be? Mine, for having bestowed her with an affectionate hug and a kiss on the cheek before we went to bed after the dance the night before lastand mother’s for her sheer obstinacy.

  Lizzy, in her kind, thoughtful way, insisted on going to visit Jane and bring her some cheer so she would not feel alone. I so wanted to go, but am too ill myself to venture out. Indeed, I said to her, “I admire the activity of your benevolence, but every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion, exertion should always be in proportion to what is required,” meaning that it wouldn’t be prudent of me to risk my own health in order to tend to Jane. Kitty and Lydia ignored me, as usual, and decided to accompany Lizzy as far as Meryton, but I am grateful they will not show themselves at Netherfield. I fear they are too frivolous for the likes of that prodigious company.

  Lizzy has remained at Netherfield to look after Jane, and, a couple of days ago, Mother finally did go too, with Kitty and Lydia. I was too sick to go along. They came home with reports of Jane being deathly ill, Mr. Bingley being the most delightful man who ever lived, and Mr. Darcy the most loathed. I’m glad I didn’t join in that particular fray.

  However, the day after their visit, I began to improve. Wracked by the remorse of not having yet attended to my poor, sick sister, I rallied, and, after ladling some warm beef broth into a lidded crock, and placing it in a basket, I set off toward Netherfield to deliver the remedy. It was time for me to determine the lay of the land for myself.

  I do not have the hearty constitution that Lizzy has, and so, after just a mile of the three necessary for me to reach my destination, my energy began to flag. I sat on a stile to rest. Clouds that had been distant when I’d first started out now had grown large and leaden. The leaves that had recently decorated the trees with their brilliant yellows and oranges had mostly fallen; just a few, like brave soldiers, clung to the branches with stalwart determination. The gray limbs of the trees danced in the wind and, with its arrival, the temperature dropped. The woolen shawl I wore about my shoulders was not sufficient to ward off the cold, and I began to wonder if I had been hasty in my own assessment of my health. Fall is turning to winter and I could feel it in my, albeit, young bones.

 
In the distance, I perceived someone approaching by horseback from the direction I was going. As the person grew closer, I was surprised to see it was none other than that Christopher Jones. I picked myself up and started to walk toward him, not wanting to be seen as some poor damsel in need of assistance.

  “Miss Bennet!” He called out to me while still at some distance.

  I did not deem it ladylike to yell back, and so I kept my peace until we were within reasonable proximity for conversation. “Mr. Jones,” I said. “What brings you along this road today? That is a fine animal you ride.”

  “Yes, she is a beauty. She is Mr. Darcy’s mare. The gentlemen at Netherfield have been confined within for several days due to the weather and their company, so he asked that I give her some exercise.” He patted the horse’s russet neck fondly.

  “Netherfield is where I am going,” I said to him. “I am bringing some soup for my sister Jane.”

  “I would imagine she has all the soup she needs,” he said with the slightest smirk.

  “Nevertheless. I am her sister, and it is my duty to go to her in her time of need.”

  “You are a very kind and generous sibling.”

  “Thank you, but you have not answered my question about what brings you along this road. There are other, more scenic paths you could have taken.”

  He paused while his face took on a pinkish hue. “I do not know the county well yet, so I took the road I already knew.”

  “I see.”

  “I should let you get on with your walk.”

  “Yes.” I must have sighed, though I didn’t mean to.

  “Are you weary?”

  “A bit. I am just recovering from a cold myself.”

  “Miss Bennet! You should not be out exerting yourself as you are. You might catch a chill. The weather has taken an unpleasant turn. You must return home at once.”