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

by Georgina Young-Ellis

  “I thank you for your solicitude, but I am determined to deliver my curative.”

  “Then for heaven’s sake, give it to me. I will take it. I must return eventually anyway, so I will do so straightaway and deliver it for you.”

  “No, I couldn’t impose on you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! It isn’t the slightest imposition.” He held his hand out to receive the basket.

  I deliberated for a moment, then decided that his solution was certainly the more practical one, and I felt grateful he had happened along at that moment. “Very well.” I handed him the basket. “Be careful, don’t spill it.”

  “I will guard it with my life.”

  “Well, I don’t think it requires quite that much…”

  He was smiling.

  “Oh, I see you are joking.”

  “Don’t worry. I will see it gets to your sister.”

  “You are most kind. I will return home then, and rest.”

  “Please do.”

  With a nod of my head and a slight curtsey, which I have no idea why I performed, I said good day, and turned and left. I heard him reverse the direction of his horse and clop away toward Netherfield.

  Chapter 5

  As I returned to the stables, I saw Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley approaching from the direction of the house. Mr. Darcy hailed me as he neared. “Christopher! How’s our girl?”

  I had to gain my composure for a minute as I realized which girl he was talking about. “Oh, this one.” I stroked Gypsy’s neck. “She does well, sir, but is still yearning for more.”

  “Good, then; the timing of your return is perfect. The weather will hopefully hold a bit longer, the elder Miss Bennet is on the mend, and Charles and I have decided it was a good opportunity to get out for a ride.”

  “Yes, sir, very good. Gypsy will welcome the further exercise.” I carefully held the basket out to Mr. Bingley. “I encountered one of the Bennet girls upon the road. She was bringing this crock of soup for her sister. She seemed weary with the walk and so I told her I’d bring it to her myself.”

  “How very thoughtful of her. Is it the same sister you met the other day?” Mr. Bingley asked me.

  “Yes, Mary,” I said, the word tasting sweet in my mouth.

  “Did we meet Mary?” Mr. Bingley said to Mr. Darcy. “Which one is she?”

  I dismounted as Mr. Darcy shrugged and led his horse into the stable. Mr. Bingley and I followed.

  “Is she the one who played the prodigious concerto upon the piano when we were at Lucas Lodge?” Mr. Bingley pressed his friend.

  “Oh, you mean the piece that was much too long and ponderous for what the occasion warranted?” Mr. Darcy replied, grabbing a brush and tending to his steed.

  Mr. Bingley put the basket on a shelf and we began to ready his horse for their ride.

  “I think I heard one of the maids say the piece was quite beautiful,” I offered, hiding my face behind the heavy saddle as I lifted it from its place of storage and carried it to Mr. Bingley’s mare.

  “Don’t be such a prig, Darcy. The music was indeed beautiful, Christopher, I enjoyed it very much,” Mr. Bingley said, brushing Camille’s back. “And any girl who cares so much about her sister must have a worthy heart.” He then brushed off the bottom of the pad and placed it upon the gleaming animal, after which I settled the saddle on top, first buckling the girth strap under the animal’s belly, then stringing the tie strap through its ring, making sure the straps were snug.

  “Indeed, sir,” I managed, miffed at Mr. Darcy’s pronouncement.

  “Wait a minute,” Mr. Darcy said all of a sudden, whirling about to look at me as I took the harness from its peg. “Isn’t Mary the beauteous young lady you encountered upon a bough last week? The one who sat amongst the autumn leaves with the tinge of rosy sunset upon her cheeks, I believe you said?” He laughed.

  My face grew hot. “I”

  “Darcy! Do not tease the boy! Ignore him, Christopher. He is being rude.”

  Hearing this admonishment from his friend seemed to bring Mr. Darcy back to himself. His expression regained its usual seriousness. “Forgive me, Christopher. A gentleman should never tease in such a way. I forget myself.”

  “It is of no consequence, sir. Please do not think about it.”

  “No, I should not have taken your feelings lightly, or thrown your words back at you.”

  “Thank you for saying so, sir. But there is no need.” I continued to fit the black steed with the bridle.

  “You are a good man, Christopher,” Mr. Bingley said, patting me on the shoulder.

  “Thank you, sir.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  As if to change the subject, Mr. Darcy said, “Charles, did I tell you about a letter I have had from my Aunt Catherine”

  “No. I saw you reading something with interest.”

  “Indeed, it was not very interesting, but something in it particularly amused me.”

  “Do tell.” Mr. Bingley began combing out his horse’s mane.

  “There is a curate living in the rectory upon my aunt’s estate. A one Mr. Collins. I have never met the man, but my aunt says he is a pandering little sort. A hard worker, very serious, but one who thinks rather more of himself than he should, according to her. She has him to tea on occasion, and dinner when she is suffering from a dearth of company. She says he is rather irritating, but will serve when no one else is about. I think it was an attempt to win my sympathy so I would go and visit.”

  “Yes…”

  “Well, apparently, he is coming here to the neighborhood to meet the Bennet family. He is a cousin, to whom their estate is entailed.”

  “I hate the idea of entailing property to a distant male heir when there are perfectly good daughters to inherit it.”

  “Yes, in some cases that may be true. Anyway, she said that, in his ‘generous’ spirit, he intends to offer himself to the eldest Miss Bennet as a possible husband, thereby allowing the property to stay in the Bennet family.”

  “What?” Mr. Bingley said, alarmed. “He intends to propose to Jane?”

  “Miss Bennet obviously has the good sense to turn down the proposal of someone as ridiculous sounding as this Collins.”

  “Yes, of course.” But Mr. Bingley stood still for a moment with furrowed brow. “Anyway,” he finally said with a light of realization in his eyes. “There are four other Bennet girls. Any of them would suit his purposes.”

  “Well, I would hope he would not attempt to bother Elizabeth Bennet with his attentions,” Mr. Darcy casually pronounced, feeding a piece of carrot to the mare. “She would never permit herself to be compromised by someone who is less than worthy of her sister.”

  “No, no, to be sure,” Mr. Bingley agreed. “Who is the next eldest of the girls?” They both glanced at me.

  I shrugged, but a kernel of panic began to gnaw at me. I had no idea which age Mary was among the five. Anyway, what right did I have to be concerned? Mary, as she had pointed out herself, was far above my station in life. I should never have been thinking affectionate thoughts about her, and I was suddenly ashamed for having done so. It would be the right thing for her to marry this Mr. Collins, and save her family from losing their home, and it was just the kind of thing she might be liable to agree to do. She seemed to have very high moral standards. Yet something in me prayed she would not be tempted to do such a thing.

  “Well, it will be interesting to see how that little drama plays out,” Mr. Bingley finally added. “As long as it does not involve Jane.”

  “Why? You are not thinking of her for yourself, are you, Charles?” Mr. Darcy sounded almost alarmed. “Yes, she is very pretty, and a sweet girl. Intelligent, I am sure, but the family has no money. She is not right for you.”

  “I am sure I’m not thinking of any such thing,” Mr. Bingley said without conviction.

  “That is good to hear.”

  The horses were now ready for their ride. “Christopher,” Mr. Bingley said to me w
ith a dejected look on his face, “would you mind taking the soup up to the house for me? Give it to the cook. She’ll heat it and have it delivered to Jane. Be sure to tell her that her sister Mary had it delivered to her.”

  “I shall, sir.”

  “Thank you, my boy.”

  With that the two gentlemen both mounted their steeds and rode away. I took the basket, and, feeling quite low, carried it to the house.

  The following day, I espied a very pretty young woman strolling along within several yards of the stables as I was there working. I recognized her as one of the Bennet sisters that were at the gathering at Lucas Lodge, and reasoned it must be Elizabeth, the one Mr. Darcy had been speaking of, since the other, Jane, was surely too ill to be out wandering about. The weather had turned fine, and I am sure the girl wanted some exercise after being cooped up in the house for nearly a week. She caught a glimpse of me and nodded a hello in my direction. I would not presume to speak to her though, for some reason, I had felt no such compunction in addressing Mary when I beheld her on that first day that we met. What had made me be so bold?

  I watched Miss Bennet gaily trip through the meadow, nearly skipping in her delight in the sunshine, though the air could not be called warm. Indeed, she did nearly trip, over some stone or other, in her carefree exuberance. When I saw her steady herself, and then lean to examine whether she had torn her dress, I ran to her to see if I could be of assistance. I was glad for the opportunity, for I was curious to know one of Mary’s sisters.

  “Miss,” I said to her as I approached, “may I assist you? My name is Christopher. I am Mr. Bingley’s groom.”

  “Oh, thank you, Christopher,” she said, and her dark eyes sparkled with energy. “I am fine. I caught my dress on a nettle, but it seems to be undamaged.”

  “I am glad to hear it.” I had no other reason to linger, but I did not want to give up my opportunity of speaking to her further. Fortunately, she solved the dilemma for me.

  “How long have you been in Mr. Bingley’s employ?” she asked me.

  “Nearly my whole life,” I replied. “As soon as I could assist in the stables along with my father, who was his groom before me.”

  “I see. Your father”

  “Is deceased. Mr. Bingley most generously kept me on.”

  “That is gratifying to hear,” she said, as a lovely smile played across her lips.

  “He is an excellent master, and a true gentleman,” I declared.

  “How very nice to hear such a thing from a servant about their master.”

  “It is only the truth.”

  She bent to pick one of the few remaining autumn wildflowers growing in the meadow. “And do you know Mr. Darcy well?” she asked in a careless way.

  “I cannot say that I do, though I have known him nearly as long as Mr. Bingley.”

  “No, he does appear to let his character be known to many.”

  “He would not to a servant, at any rate,” I replied.

  “No, of course not. Yet you seem to know Mr. Bingley’s character.”

  “He is a naturally open person. It is not hard to know what kind of a man he is. It is in his eyes and his smile, as ready to read as a book.”

  She grinned at this. “Indeed. It is a most pleasant quality of his.”

  “I heard the gentlemen speaking of the fact that you and your elder sister have been visiting Netherfield this week.” I actually knew more than that, but did not want to reveal that I had been having conversations with Mary. Perhaps Miss Elizabeth would not be in favor of our acquaintance.

  “Not exactly visiting,” she said with some perturbation in her voice. “Jane, my sister, fell ill when she came to visit several days ago, and we have not felt comfortable moving her. I am only here to keep her company and tend to her, poor darling. She is on the mend, however. I think we will be able to go home tomorrow.”

  I thought of the soup that dear, kind Mary had had me deliver, and my heart swelled with the thought that perhaps it had aided in her sister’s recovery.

  “I am happy to hear it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Neither of us spoke for a moment and so I felt I had tarried there with her long enough.

  “I must return to my work. Enjoy your walk, miss.”

  “Thank you, sir. It was pleasant to make your acquaintance.”

  I nodded to her, and returned to the stable, happiness filling my heart at the knowledge that Mary had such an amiable sister, and wondering if the rest of her siblings were as kind and pleasant. I had no right to be concerned about her family at all, but I couldn’t help myself. From what I could gather from speaking to Elizabeth, the Bennet family must be a delightful set of people, without doubt.

  Chapter 6

  Jane and Lizzy have returned from Netherfield, both in very good health. Jane, as a matter of fact, looked better than ever. She has a perpetual smile upon her lips and a blush upon her cheek that make her more beautiful still. Lizzy has been uncharacteristically quiet. I took her aside for what I hoped might be a cheering talk.

  “Dearest Elizabeth,” I said (I like to use one’s full Christian name when I begin these talks in order to impress upon them the seriousness of my intentions), “I fear something is weighing upon you. Please feel you can confide in me. Did something happen at Netherfield to disturb you? If so, you mustn’t let it prey upon your mind in a way that makes you vulnerable to depression. Your family depends upon you for your sensible good nature. When we do not have your particular wry perspective things tend to go out of balance around here. I do not know if I am making myself clear, but what I want to say is that your peculiar brand of levity and humorous observations, though perhaps not always tempered with the correct amount of spiritual introspection, distract our younger sisters, are of a particular delight to our father, and tend to quiet our mother’s outbursts.”

  Lizzy smiled at me. “Thank you, Mary, for your advice. I will heed it.” She made a move to go.

  “Is it Mr. Darcy?” I asked, grasping her hand to keep her seated.

  Her face took on a confused expression. “Mr. Darcy? What do you mean?”

  “I do not like him,” I confessed. “I do not know him, but what I have seen and heard of him, I cannot consider generously. I fear it was hard on you to be around him for so many days. He seems very conceited.”

  “Oh, I am very much in agreement, though I do not think conceited is the word.” I was quite surprised to see the color rise in her cheeks as she went on in a rush. “In fact, it is very hard to know what to think of him. He is not unkind, though he does appear to keep people at a distance. He presents quite the handsome picture of a man, however. He is tall, you must admit, with a pleasing physique.”

  “Yes, I do not deny it, but”

  “Though his words are few, there is clearly an intelligent discernment in his eyes, even a nobility in the set of his jaw. It is pleasing, don’t you think, how thick a head of hair he has, and how smooth his skin is?”

  “Elizabeth!” I almost shouted, but to no avail, as she continued without so much as taking a breath.

  “Except when the day has worn on and the slightest bit of growth of his whiskers make him seem even more manly”

  “Elizabeth,” I repeated sternly. She suddenly turned to look at me and her eyes seemed to regain their focus. “We were speaking of his personality.”

  “Yes,” she replied with a slight shake of her head. “However, I do believe he is very influenced by Mr. Bingley’s atrocious sisters, Caroline, and Mrs. Hurst. They look down on everyone, sneer at everything, and are constantly trying to get him to think as they do. Especially CarolineMiss Bingley.”

  “Does he not have the strength of character to think for himself?”

  “No, I mean, yes, he does. Surely he does. But Miss Bingley never lets him out of her sight when they are in proximity to each other. She dotes on his younger sister, Georgiana, and thinks no one else could be as accomplished or beautiful. I think she does it
to gain his favor. No doubt she hopes to marry him. He would be a stupendous match for her.”

  “Why do you care, dear Elizabeth? Surely he is not worth giving so much thought to, physically attractive though he may be. As a matter of fact, I fear it is your exposure to him, and these Bingley women, that has made you unhappy.”

  “I am not unhappy, Mary. No, to say the least. I am actually quite happy to have seen how Charles Bingley paid such careful attention to Jane while we were there. I think he is taken with herthough I am loath to agree with mother about anything. If Jane is made happy by the attentions of Mr. Bingley, it is all I could ask for.”

  Something still did not seem right in what Lizzy was saying to me. She would never be jealous of Jane. That is not like her. Could she really have been so affected by the unpleasantness of this Mr. Darcy and the Bingley sisters? That is not like her either. If she does not like someone, she simply doesn’t think about them. That is her way.

  “Well good,” I finally said. “I will bother you no more about it. But please know you have a willing ear, here in your sister, if you need it.”

  “Thank you, Mary.”

  Before she could go, I called her attention to a stack of books resting nearby that I had chosen especially for her. “Among these tomes are some very good philosophies on discipline of the mind, as well as some beneficial, religious meditations. I sincerely recommend them if at any time you feel troubled. They help me very much to stay focused on the right path when the evils of the world threaten to distract me.”

  She glanced in their direction. “Ah. Well noted, Mary. I will not hesitate to take advantage of them if the need strikes.” With that, she squeezed my hand and hurried away to sit by father where her needlework awaited her. There is nothing like good, solid employment of the hands to busy the mind when the weight of the world is pressing down upon one.

  If it isn’t one thing, it’s another around here. Father received a letter from a certain Mr. Collins, the cousin to whom Longbourn is entailed, saying he was coming for a visit, a fact that sent mother into a tizzy.