Consequence of Jealousy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Aubrey Anderson

  At that moment, two actions occurred.

  Firstly, Caroline wrenched her wrist away from Louisa’s grip, bringing out a startled gasp from Louisa as Caroline had managed to catch Louisa’s wrist with her nails.

  Secondly, she realised almost instantly that nothing would calm her sister down, she had merely fanned the flames of Caroline’s ire. If anything, Caroline’s voice grew in volume, as she lectured her sister. “Do not attempt to stop me, Louisa! I know that Bennet chit, Miss Eliza, has plans for tonight. As you said before, it is their last night at Netherfield, and she has been impertinent to Mr. Darcy for her entire stay. He is clearly ensnared by her, although he is too well-bred and refined to do anything foolish, but it is clear that she has none of those qualities. I should warn Mr. Darcy and Charles tonight! A compromise, carried out can only spell disaster for the Bingley and Darcy name. It shall not occur on my watch! And even if she does not attempt something tonight, Charles and Mr. Darcy shall be in danger anyways! For a compromise carried out in view of our small party is something we may be able to hush up, but one carried out at one of the intolerable parties of Sir William’s, or during the ball that Charles so stupidly promised that Bennet girl he would throw, shall be quite a different matter.

  Although she knew it was foolhardy, a character trait she tried very hard to not exhibit, Louisa attempted to calm her sister down, yet again.

  “Caroline, you cannot imagine----”

  “I do not imagine anything, Louisa!” Caroline sniffed imperiously, as she looked down her nose at her sister. Her breathing was less furious, Louisa observed, and hopefully she could coax her to bed soon. “Miss Eliza is not here to visit her ailing sister! How shall poor Mr. Darcy get on then? To be connected with a woman who deliberately compromised and seduced him while he lay asleep, or---.”

  At those words, Louisa immediately rushed to clamp a small hand over her sister’s wayward tongue, for at those words, after a short knock, the door to the dressing room had opened, and in stepped a maid.

  Caroline glared at her furiously and was about to protest her treatment when she followed Louisa’s gaze to the maid, who had just finished bobbing a small curtsey. She looked common and unpolished, and was most likely from the area. Pushing her sister away, she drew herself up as regally as she could.

  “What are you doing in here, girl?” She demanded.

  “Mr. Bingley has sent me to help you dress for bed, Miss Bingley.,” was her reply.

  Caroline sniffed. At least this girl knew how to pronounce whole syllables, and her accent was not too unrefined.

  “Indeed.” At the girl’s nod, Caroline waited a moment before impatiently snapping, “I do not have to tell you how to do the job for which my brother pays you, do I?” At her censure, she was pleased to see the girl rush to fulfil her duties. She turned to her sister.

  “I shall see you in the morning, Caroline.” Louisa said, already moving to leave, effectively cutting off anything else Caroline would say. As though Caroline would speak of such a delicate subject in front of a servant.

  Chapter Two

  She felt a twinge of remorse for such thoughts, for when Elizabeth awoke to feel the sun’s early morning rays on her face, she could not help but be gladdened that they were leaving. Today she would be going home with her beloved sister--no longer would she be stuck in this grand old estate, where she was quite sure that only Mr. Bingley, enjoyed and her sister’s presence.

  Rolling over, careful not to jostle a sleeping Jane, Elizabeth snuggled closer into her pillow. This time tomorrow, she would be taking her favourite walk, as was her usual practice despite her mother’s loud complaints about her early morning jaunts. All she had to do was get through breakfast, and that would be all the more easier to bear now that her beloved Jane was well enough to attend at her side.

  Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had shown their true selves rather quickly in Elizabeth’s opinion, and judging from Jane’s description of their manner they could and did temper their prideful, haughty deportment, so perhaps the upcoming breakfast would not be quite so bad. Of the two, Elizabeth would rather witness Miss Bingley fawn over Jane and her miraculous recovery from such a trifling cold, than to bear another uncensored praise of Mr. Darcy. Miss Bingley declaring the rude, arrogant, and proud Mr. Darcy to be above reproach had been unbearable for Elizabeth, and she wished the horrid man would simply propose already and spare Hertfordshire of his and Miss Bingley’s presence, posthaste.

  ***

  She had insisted on escorting Jane to breakfast, however, she went back to their room to spend a few minutes packing the two gowns, some nightgowns and underthings that had been brought from Longbourn to Netherfield. Afterwards, Elizabeth aimlessly made her way to breakfast. She was in no particular hurry and not especially eager to be in Mr. Darcy or Miss Bingley’s presence, so she spent a few minutes studying a rather large painting of a cherubic babe depicted as an angel in heaven. A slight frown marred her features as she moved in closer to read the inscription, wondering if the depiction was merely that of an artist’s conception, or if it represented a child that had been lost. As she leant forward to read the small gold plaque, she nearly lost her balance, as someone bumped into her from her side.

  “Your pardon, Miss Elizabeth,” squeaked out a terrified young woman, dressed in a maid’s cap and gown.

  Elizabeth turned to address the young woman, and when she did so, could not help the smile that drew across her face almost instantly.

  “Hattie! It is no matter. I know it was an accident.” She greeted happily, glad to see a familiar face among the dragons of Netherfield. Hattie Donaldson, the milliner’s daughter stood before her, dressed in an unfamiliar maid’s outfit and cap. The one positive character trait Elizabeth could attribute to her two youngest sisters were that they were not snobbish. Although not bosom friends due to the differing social class, Hattie and Lydia especially, always spent at least half an hour speaking of the latest fashions while in Hattie’s father’s shop. Although very effusive, for what other attribute would a friend of Lydia’s possess, she was not a bad sort of girl, and very pretty. She and Lydia were the same age, and Elizabeth wondered what she was doing here, at Netherfield, instead of her father’s shop.

  Uncomfortably, Hattie gave Elizabeth a deep curtsey and an almost whispered, “ma’am excuse me,” which Elizabeth returned with a nod of her head, although she was unsure why Hattie was behaving so formally, especially given their prior acquaintance. Elizabeth, nor any member of her family were not so haughty as to pretend to not recognise the daughter of a shopkeeper from whom they bought their ribbons from since they were small girls, simply because they were at Netherfield.

  Before she could quiz Hattie why she had sought employment at Netherfield or question her strange manner towards her, Hattie scurried off with a short, aborted bob of her head.

  How strange, Elizabeth thought. Perhaps Lydia would find out the cause of her strange behaviour, Elizabeth decided as she continued on to breakfast.

  ***

  “Miss Bennet! Miss Elizabeth!” Elizabeth could not help but smile at the jovial tones of the ever exuberant Mr. Bingley. Giving her sister a teasing grin and a light jab of her elbow into her side, Elizabeth curtseyed for Mr. Bingley, and returned his greeting with as much affection as was proper. The few short days she spent in this house had exemplified for her that Charles Bingley truly was a kind man, the model of everything that was gentlemanly, and she was sorry to leave his company.

  Beside her, Jane returned his greeting, a small smile touching her lips as Mr. Bingley inquired solicitously after her health, making sure that she felt well enough to travel for the day.

  “I am quite well, Mr. Bingley. I shall be able to travel home today, as planned, and I cannot trespass upon your kindness and hospitality any longer.”

  Offering Jane his left arm, and Elizabeth his right--both of which were gratefully accepted--Jane heard his protest, “Of course not, it was no trouble, indeed no trou
ble at all having you stay! It would not have been neighbourly to send you back to Longbourn when the roads were so ill and you with a fever, would it have been? Caroline,” Mr. Bingley called out to his sister, who had already sat down at the table in anticipation of eating, “do tell Miss Bennet that we only did what any neighbor would have done if they had been presented with the same sort of circumstances!”

  Taking the seat Mr. Bingley had so gallantly pulled out for her, Elizabeth withheld a small grin as she observed Miss Bingley’s expression and form. A rigid tension enveloped her, and Elizabeth smothered a laugh. Miss Bingley, it seemed, was unduly dramatic, for it was not as though Mr. Bingley was going to propose to Jane over the breakfast table right that instant!

  “Indeed Charles.” Miss Bingley agreed in an almost sickly sweet voice. Turning to Jane, she greeted her effusively, with Mrs. Hurst echoing her words and sentiments almost in tandem.

  “My dear Jane! How glad I am to see that you are well! Your colour is much improved, and I am sure you disliked being quite so ill! Tell me, does that occur with any great measure of frequency?” Caroline probed, wishing to possibly gain more information as to the devious arts and machinations that the Bennet women employed.

  Realising it for the insult that it was, Elizabeth opened her mouth to formulate a sardonic reply, one that was sure to invoke Miss Bingley’s wrath, when Mr. Darcy strode in, his hair lightly damp. His dark eyes found her, and for some inexplicable reason, Elizabeth gazed into his dark, serious eyes. Another moment passed, and she looked away. At first she thought she had seen...but she quickly dismissed those thoughts. He thought nothing of her, except to note her tolerable looks.

  Mr. Darcy bowed.

  “Miss Bennet, I am glad to see that you are most recovered,” he started solemnly. “Good morning, Miss Bingley, Charles,” he said, going down the list of those present, and ending with Elizabeth. Elizabeth was not sure whether or not she should be insulted, especially upon seeing the rather large smirk Miss Bingley gave at being put first within the second greeting, but decided not to give it any more thought. She had already spent enough time upon trying to determine the mystery of Mr. Darcy. It did not matter. Given his disagreeable and proud behaviour at the Assembly, Elizabeth would be surprised if Mr. Darcy lasted to the New Year, before going back to London or his own estate.

  Picking up her knife to smear a pat of butter on the soft, fragrant roll, Elizabeth willed the breakfast to pass quickly one final time.

  ***

  The moment Jane and Elizabeth stepped over the threshold of Longbourn, their mama instantly began her interrogation, not even allowing them to shed their cloaks, nor sit down for a cup of tea.

  “Oh! Oh! My dears, my darling Jane! Lizzie!” Mrs. Bennet drew Jane close to her, laying a kiss upon her forehead, before exclaiming, “Now you and Miss Lizzie must sit and report all that came to pass while you were at Netherfield. Especially you, Miss Lizzie!” Ms. Bennet stated rather strongly. “You shall not escape to your father’s library until I am satisfied with all of the details. I must know how Mr. Bingley behaved towards our dear Jane! Did he often call upon Jane in her sickbed? Were there very many inquiries about Jane’s health every evening and mornings by Mr. Bingley or his sisters? Where in heaven’s name have the two of you been? I declared to Mr. Bennet that you must have been kidnapped by highwaymen, for you were supposed to arrive at half past noon, yet it is near two o’clock.”

  At her mama’s last statement, Elizabeth gave her sister a knowing grin, which caused Jane to blush and focus her attention upon the teacup in her hand. Mrs. Bennet, scenting blood in the water, began to noisily demand an explanation from either Elizabeth or Jane. Knowing her sister would not divulge anything but the barest details, in a manner that would absolve her of any influence, Elizabeth took it upon herself to inform her mama of their delay from Netherfield.

  “If you must know mama, Jane and I were late in our departure due to Mr. Bingley wishing to grant us a brief tour of Netherfield before we left.”

  Mrs. Bennet gave an excited shriek, that almost split Elizabeth’s ears, but Jane’s blush, and dare she admit it, her mama’s excitement, made it worth it. She had been in a house where she felt devoid of any comfort or familiarity, excepting the moments she spent with her sister while she attended on her. Except for the last night, when Jane’s fever had broken early that evening, Elizabeth slept alone, and slept badly.

  She was home, and she was loved.

  “Oh my dear Jane! How favoured you are! How thoughtful Mr. Bingley is! You must tell me, my dear, everything that happened!”

  At Mrs. Bennet’s expectant look, Jane’s blush deepened further, as she knew her mama would not let her get away with a demure look, as Lizzie did.

  “You are over exaggerating, Mama! Tell her Lizzie!” Jane protested halfheartedly, knowing it would not make a difference to her mama. She would prod and poke until she received enough information that would satisfy her insatiable curiosity, and would accept nothing less.

  At her mother’s encouraging demeanour, Jane allowed herself a smile for her own gratification as she spoke. “It was not like that, Mama,” she started modestly, “Mr. Bingley merely wanted to show us his estate, as I had not been able to take a tour with Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst due to my illness. They had wished to dine first, and then show some of the rooms that they had rearranged from the previous owners’ liking, and my illness prevented that.”

  Sipping her tea, Elizabeth gave her sister an innocent grin, and settled into her mama’s interrogation. Although Elizabeth knew that her mother was excited for Mr. Bingley’s interest in Jane, she hoped that Jane would be given enough time by her mama and by Hertfordshire to decide whether or not she truly liked Mr. Bingley. Although he was handsome, amiable, and generous to a fault, he and Jane had only two occasions of acquaintance to recommend themselves to each other--a paltry amount of time. However their story ended, Elizabeth hoped that it would be due to a mutual decision on their parts, as Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had made it quite plain that they wanted more than a country squire’s daughter for their brother, no matter how much they fawned over Jane.

  ***

  Around three or four o’clock, depending on how beguiling the officers were that day, or how varied the lace and ribbon selection was, Lydia and Kitty stumbled back home, excitedly, brimming with news straight from the barracks. This particular afternoon, however, a remarkably quiet, although no less eager, Lydia and Kitty greeted the rest of the Bennet women in the family parlour. Mrs. Bennet was on her feet straight away, knowing that they bore no ordinary news. Their faces were half animation, half solemnity, an expression that their papa would not believe had graced their countenances, unless he were able to view it himself.

  “What news do you bring my dears? How was my sister Mrs. Phillips?” Mrs. Bennet asked excitedly, for she dearly wished to know the piece of gossip that had even her exuberant Lydia tongue tied.

  The youngest Bennet sisters hesitantly sat down, causing Elizabeth to feel a pang of apprehension and worry.

  All of a sudden, Lydia burst into giggles, and Elizabeth was shocked at Kitty’s reaction.

  “Lydia!” She admonished, “It is not funny! You did not like it when Mr. Donaldson would not give you an advance on the ribbon because of what he’d heard from Netherfield!”

  At that subtle reminder, Lydia’s giggles tapered off almost instantly, and she grew sullen as she considered how Mr. Donaldson had informed her that he would require payment--a whole twelve shillings!--for her past due account, and would not allow her to leave with any ribbon or lace unless she paid for it then and there.

  “What is it my dears? What is the news that affects us so?” Mrs. Bennet interrogated her youngest daughter worriedly, ready to leap to their defence if need be. Her family had been proud patrons of Mr. Donaldson’s shop for nigh on twenty years, and it would not due for him to treat any of her daughters in that manner. She had half a mind to take the carriage down to Meryton
herself and remind him of that very fact!

  Kitty’s attention turned to Elizabeth, her eyes slightly wide. “Lizzie, everyone is saying that you and Mr. Darcy--” She cut herself off, unable to believe what she had been told.

  “Mr. Darcy and I, what?” Elizabeth inquired. What rumour could be spread around town that would cause shock to Lydia and Kitty? It was no secret that the prideful man had slighted Lizzie his first evening in Meryton.

  Beside Kitty, Lydia could no longer contain herself, “When we were in Mr. Donaldson’s shop, Jane Grey, the cook’s assistant at Netherfield, told us that you had snuck into Mr. Darcy’s bed!”

  Before Elizabeth could react, Kitty, not one to be one-upped when Lydia was involved, piped up with, “And as we passed by Aunt Phillips, Lieutenant Denny offered to be Papa’s second if he wished to duel with Mr. Darcy, for he had heard that Mr. Darcy had gone into Lizzie’s bed!”

  At those words, Elizabeth abruptly stood, almost instantly feeling nauseous and furious at the same time. That such ridiculous rumours should be spread and believed, especially depicting an illicit relationship between herself and Mr. Darcy of all people, she could hardly comprehend it. That Mr. Donaldson was quick to rush such a judgement upon herself and her family--she had to get to the bottom of it, and quickly. Elizabeth had been especially aware of the gossip train from watching Jane’s coming out. The young heir of a baronet had quickly fallen in love, or, rather lust, with Jane, and the whole of Meryton had gossipped about their imminent engagement, until the young man’s grandfather had arrived to collect him. At every house party and Assembly given thereafter, for the next two years, the young gentleman had been mentioned in some form or another. Her mother had bemoaned his loss for the next four years.