Coincidence

by Jann Rowland

  Also by Jann Rowland

  Coincidence

  The Companion

  Watch for more at Jann Rowland’s site.

  Coincidence

  Jann Rowland

  By Jann Rowland

  Published by One Good Sonnet Publishing:

  PRIDE AND PREJUDICE VARIATIONS

  Acting on Faith

  A Life from the Ashes (Sequel to Acting on Faith)

  Open Your Eyes

  Implacable Resentment

  An Unlikely Friendship

  Bound by Love

  Cassandra

  Obsession

  Shadows Over Longbourn

  The Mistress of Longbourn

  My Brother’s Keeper

  Coincidence

  PRIDE AND PREJUDICE VARIATIONS

  Co-Authored with Lelia Eye

  WAITING FOR AN ECHO

  Waiting for an Echo Volume One: Words in the Darkness

  Waiting for an Echo Volume Two: Echoes at Dawn

  Waiting for an Echo Two Volume Set

  A Summer in Brighton

  A Bevy of Suitors

  Love and Laughter: A Pride and Prejudice Short Stories Anthology

  THE EARTH AND SKY TRILOGY

  Co-Authored with Lelia Eye

  On Wings of Air

  On Lonely Paths

  On Tides of Fate*

  *Forthcoming

  This is a work of fiction, based on the works of Jane Austen. All of the characters and events portrayed in this novel are products of Jane Austen’s original novel, the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  COINCIDENCE

  Copyright © 2017 Jann Rowland

  Cover Design by Lelia Eye

  Published by One Good Sonnet Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1987929586

  ISBN-13: 978-1987929584

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, digital, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  To my family who have, as always, shown

  their unconditional love and encouragement.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Chapter XXV

  Chapter XXVI

  Chapter XXVII

  Chapter XXVIII

  Chapter XXIX

  Chapter XXX

  Epilogue

  Please enjoy the following excerpt from the upcoming novel On Lonely Paths, book two of the Earth and Sky fantasy trilogy.

  For Readers Who Liked Coincidence

  Also by One Good Sonnet Publishing

  If you’re a fan of thieves with a heart of gold,

  then you don’t want to Miss . . .

  About the Author

  Chapter I

  It is an undeniable truth that an imperious woman with scant wit, but a vast sense of her own superiority, possesses the wherewithal to make the lives of those around her miserable.

  “I am so glad you have come, Darcy,” said Lady Catherine, as Darcy and his cousin joined her in the sitting-room after refreshing themselves from their journey.

  The woman smiled at Darcy, but whereas she undoubtedly intended it to be a welcoming gesture, the image of a fat spider, devouring some unfortunate insect which had become caught in its web came to Darcy’s mind. And though Fitzwilliam sat by Darcy’s side, his own smile plastered to his face, Darcy knew that his aunt’s welcome was for him alone, and he almost shuddered. Oh yes, Lady Catherine possessed the ability to render them all very miserable indeed. Though they had entered the house only moments before, it already seemed like a lifetime. This visit to Rosings promised to be even more tiresome than usual.

  “Anne and I are happy you have come to visit again, Darcy.”

  Darcy almost groaned. It seemed like his aunt was on a mission this year to finally bring about the marriage between them. She had been blathering about it for years, but it seemed like she was determined that she would be obliged on this visit.

  “Does Anne not look well today?”

  “A more accomplished woman you could not possibly find.”

  “I have taught her everything she must know concerning the management of a house.”

  “When you are married, Pemberley and Rosings shall be united!”

  It was with statements such as these, all delivered in his aunt’s domineering tone which brooked no dissent, that she attempted to forward the match and ensure her wishes were obliged. Darcy had given up telling her he would not marry Anne years before—what point was there when the woman merely brushed off his attempts to have his say, ignoring all evidence to the contrary? He would have thought that his failure to offer for Anne, though she had been of marriageable age for more than five years, would have informed Lady Catherine that he was not about to be moved on the subject.

  For Anne’s part, she did nothing more than sit on her sofa with her handkerchief held near her mouth, cough ever so lightly into said handkerchief on occasion, and ignore whatever inanities spewed forth from her mother’s mouth. Not that Darcy blamed Anne. She was forced to live with her harridan of a mother, after all, and the woman would use her power to make her daughter miserable—or even more miserable than she always was—at any sign of rebellion. It was a colorless, sorry sort of life his cousin lived, but Anne showed no sign of wishing to escape it. Had she done so, he would have done everything in his power to see that she was released from her bondage.

  “Anne does, indeed, look well, Aunt,” said Fitzwilliam.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy could see the slight smile on his cousin’s face, a clear indication that he was amused and wished to stir the cauldron. It was also something his aunt had never quite understood about Fitzwilliam, this propensity to make sport with anyone and anything. It was also clear from the scowl she directed at them both that the wrong nephew had answered her question.

  Darcy had never been quite able to understand his aunt’s motivations. Lady Catherine had always been intent upon brokering a marriage between Darcy and Anne, citing the joining of two great estates, keeping Rosings in the family, though it was not encumbered with an entailment and Anne, as the heir, could leave it to whomever she chose. But Fitzwilliam was a younger son, and he did not have much to make his way through life, as his elder brother was to inherit the earldom. If keeping Rosings in the family were of such paramount importance, would it not make sense to arrange a marriage between Fitzwilliam and Anne?

  As Lady Catherine droned on about Darcy knew not what, he considered the matter further, but no answers came to him. Sense suggested that Fitzwilliam was the logical choice, but still Lady Catherine importuned Darcy. It made little sense, but then again, Lady Catherine rarely deigned to make sense.

  Then something the woman said caught Darcy’s attention, and he focused upon her. “I beg your pardon, madam. Were you speaking of Mr. Collins?”

  Lady Catherine frowned. “I did not think you were acquainted with my new clergyman.”

  “We met in Hertfordshire last autumn
, Lady Catherine. Mr. Collins was visiting with his relations.”

  Yes, Darcy remembered the odious man quite well. The temerity of the man to approach him without introduction had been beyond the pale. Collins obviously knew little of the social graces by which polite society in England was governed, but Darcy was willing to allow the acquaintance to be acknowledged, since he knew he would meet the man while he was here, regardless.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” said Lady Catherine in her usually off hand way when speaking of those beneath her. “Mr. Collins did mention how he met you.”

  She said nothing further on the subject, unsurprising, as Darcy knew that though she gave every appearance of listening to her underlings, she was rather adept at hearing little of what they told her. Though it was rude to act in such a manner, in Mr. Collins’s case, Darcy could well understand it. Even the few stilted words they had exchanged had informed Darcy that the man was a dullard of the first order. But it was not Mr. Collins that Darcy wished to hear of.

  “You mentioned something of Mr. Collins?” prompted Darcy.

  “Only that he is now married.” Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “It is well that there are some who are willing to follow my advice and marry as soon as may be.”

  “Did he marry someone from the area?” asked Darcy, not truly interested, unless his suspicions were proven to be true.

  “No. In fact, he brought his bride home from Hertfordshire. I had sent him there to marry one of his cousins, you understand, of which there are five. Though he did not accomplish this task in quite the manner in which I had intended, still his wife is an intelligent sort of woman, and one who manages his home efficiently—more than he was ever able to do himself.”

  The image of a petite young woman, hair the color of mahogany, with deep brown, laughing eyes, possessing pert opinions, came into Darcy’s mind. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the woman he had met in Hertfordshire and had not been able to forget since, had married her cousin? Impossible!

  “I had not thought she favored him,” replied Darcy. His voice felt strained, and though Lady Catherine noted nothing amiss, Fitzwilliam’s eyes swiveled to him, while even Anne looked up, though her dull eyes bespoke little curiosity.

  “How could she not?” asked Lady Catherine. “The lady had little dowry, no prospects, and has not been educated in a manner which would allow her to become a governess. It was an eligible match for her, and relieved her father of the burden of feeding a spinster daughter. Mr. Collins, though at times I despair of his understanding my instructions, has done well in this instance. I must own that I was surprised.”

  His aunt droning on in the background, Darcy’s thoughts focused inward, and he wondered at this marriage, which he had deemed unlikely to ever take place. He had noted Collins’s attentions to Miss Elizabeth—he doubted there was anyone within a ten-mile radius who had not been able to see them—but Miss Elizabeth had struck him as an independent soul, and one who would put inclination over prudence. It had been equally obvious that she had been repulsed by the gentleman. Had something happened which had forced her hand? How could she have done this?

  For a moment, Darcy thought he had misjudged her, had been blind as to what kind of woman she was, and the thought disturbed him. And another matter disturbed him even more—the fact that one of the brightest lights he had ever met was now the wife of a stuttering, blathering, sycophantic twit of a man. Darcy was shocked—there was no other way to say it.

  “She has a friend visiting at present, you know,” said Lady Catherine, the information pulling Darcy once again from his reverie. “And a sister as well. The sister is a shy, mousy sort of thing, but her friend is a rather forthright and independent sort of girl, besides being rather pretty. Though I cannot approve of such behavior in a woman in a general sense, I must own that I find her company amusing.”

  Darcy frowned; Lady Catherine’s silliness aside—she did not approve of forthright behavior in a woman, indeed!—the friend of which she spoke sounded more like Miss Elizabeth than the wife. Suspicion bloomed in Darcy’s mind.

  “My apologies, Lady Catherine, but as you know, I am likely acquainted with these young ladies. Is Mrs. Collins one of the former Miss Bennets?”

  “No, indeed,” replied Lady Catherine, a hint of disgust appearing in her tone. “How Miss Bennet could refuse such a man who could provide for her family in the situation in which they find themselves is quite beyond me. But she would not have him, and her father supported her. It is difficult to credit, but it is true.”

  “Then who did Mr. Collins marry?” asked Darcy, hiding the sudden elation he felt at learning Miss Elizabeth Bennet had not become Mrs. Elizabeth Collins.

  “A Miss Lucas, I believe her name was.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Darcy. “I do know Miss Lucas, though I know her sister less. She always struck me as a practical, level-headed sort of woman.”

  “As I have already said,” snapped Lady Catherine.

  “Indeed, you have, aunt,” murmured Darcy.

  “Well then,” said Fitzwilliam, “when are we to meet these ladies? I am certain a variance in the company you keep is welcome, Lady Catherine.”

  “Quite,” said their aunt with a sniff. “As for meeting them, I shall invite them to dinner next week. And before that, you will have the opportunity to make their acquaintance on Sunday at church.”

  “I believe we had best pay our respects before then,” said Darcy. “The obligation cannot be avoided, as I am already known to them.”

  The look Lady Catherine bestowed on him displayed her suspicion whenever there was a question of some eligible woman other than Anne. Darcy merely returned her scrutiny with his usual inscrutable countenance. There was nothing to report, no interest in the young woman, other than that dictated by acquaintance, so his aunt could desist from this inquiry.

  “I suppose you must,” said Lady Catherine, with little enthusiasm and much annoyance. “But I am certain that can wait until the morrow. Until then, I think it would be best for you to become better acquainted with your cousin.”

  “I believe I shall return to my room, Mama,” said Anne, standing with the assistance of her companion.

  “That is an excellent idea, Anne,” said Darcy, rising himself. “I am certain you require your rest. In the meantime, Fitzwilliam and I shall present ourselves at the parsonage as politeness dictates.”

  Bowing over his cousin’s hand, Darcy turned to leave the room. He was not able to depart without catching sight of Lady Catherine, and though she was pleased at his attention to his cousin—Darcy had planned it so to blunt her anger—she was not amused at either Anne’s or Darcy’s stated intentions.

  “You seem rather . . . eager,” said Fitzwilliam once they had gained the hall outside the sitting-room. “Is there anything you have not told me about these visitors?”

  “And you were not eager to leave our aunt’s company?” parried Darcy. “If you would prefer, we could go back and sit with her until dinner. I am certain she has many amusing anecdotes with which to regale us.”

  “Ah, no, Darcy. I am quite content to visit your acquaintances at the parsonage.”

  “I thought you might be,” replied Darcy, not even bothering to hide how smug he felt. Fitzwilliam did not miss it either, given his sour look. Darcy smiled; Fitzwilliam was far too apt to enjoy teasing others, but he rarely appreciated it when the tables were turned.

  They walked along the lane which led out from Rosings to the main road—the parsonage was situated just on the other side of that road, close to the branch which led to Rosings. As they walked, Darcy looked out over the fields of the estate, and back on the house itself. It was a handsome building, built in the modern style, tall and imposing. But for all that, Darcy had always felt there was something lacking in the place, whether it was the lack of much of the wildness of nature which pervaded his beloved Pemberley—Lady Catherine possessed the strong opinion that nature should be tamed—or the fact that the estate was not nearly a
s prosperous as it could be, Darcy could not be certain. Perhaps it was nothing more than the fact that Rosings was not Pemberley. It was possible, though he had never felt that way at Snowlock, the Fitzwilliam estate, nor many others he had visited.

  “Rosings would be a good estate,” mused Darcy as they walked. “If only Lady Catherine would follow some of our advice and manage it in the way she ought.”

  Fitzwilliam snorted with derision. “That is not very likely, now, is it?”

  Shaking his head, Darcy could only agree with his cousin. “She has resisted to be certain. I do not suppose she will ever change her mind.” Once again Darcy gazed around. “It is a pity, for Rosings could be so much more than it is.”

  “Then perhaps you should marry Anne so that you may achieve these changes.”

  Scowling, Darcy said: “I have no intention of marrying Anne, as you well know.”

  “Then why do you concern yourself with Lady Catherine’s estate management? You have known these things for some years now; why should it be any different now?”

  The crunch of their boots on the gravel was the only accompanying sound as they walked, and Darcy considered the matter for some moments, only speaking slowly as they were nearing the parsonage.

  “I suppose it is over concern for Anne and her inheritance. Look at all this,” said Darcy, waving his hand in a broad arc. “Everything south of the road belongs to Rosings Park, and though its lands are not as extensive as Pemberley or Snowlock, still Kent boasts a much better climate. Rosings will never generate as much income as those other estates, but it could be a very profitable estate, and on the surface, it appears to be so.

  “But Aunt Catherine is set in her ways. Not only does she refuse to even consider some of the newest techniques which would raise the estate’s profits, but she overspends and will not hear of economizing. The tenants’ concerns are neglected, and the estate’s revenues fall because of it. She has no ability to keep servants due to her imperious nature, and she is so neglectful of all, that it leaves her open to unscrupulous servants, which further exacerbates the problem.”