Consequence of Jealousy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Aubrey Anderson

  Privately, Elizabeth noted rather sardonically that she would need to tease her papa later, for he had missed the exchange due to his disappearing into his study the moment the introductions had finished. Mrs. Bennet had fussed and waited a short while for Mr. Collins, being quite unwilling to give up her regular tea time for a man who was to steal her daughters’ inheritance. Elizabeth was grateful for the distraction.

  That morning, Elizabeth had woken up early to her normal walk, unwilling to avoid the path to Netherfield for obvious reasons, and had enjoyed herself immensely. It was honestly the first few hours of true enjoyment she had had within the past few days. Her walks had always fueled her independence, especially when her mama had objected so strenuously to them, citing a London fashion that she cared nothing for. Neither did Meryton. Or at least she thought it had not. The events of the past few days had changed everything she had ever thought about her small town. She had thought they knew her, as well as she knew them. She was now discovering that they knew very little of each other at all.

  After her walk, she had gone back home for breakfast, and then directly out again to walk to the Lucases to visit Charlotte. Her mama had allowed her to go, only if she promised to come home directly before Mr. Collins’ projected arrival. There was no new news to be had, on the subject of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s engagement, as his promised letter had not yet arrived. Elizabeth could only surmise that her mama wished to gloat about her engagement to Lady Catherine’s nephew, to Mr. Collins’. It would serve him right, as he spoke of nothing else but his connection to such an esteemed lady. Secondly, Elizabeth was proof, that the Bennet women would not be entirely dependent on him after their father’s passing.

  Her visit with Charlotte was equally pleasurable, for her dear friend, always perceptive and all knowing, had noted her silent wish to not discuss Mr. Darcy, the compromise, or Netherfield, and had instead regaled her with tales of her youngest brother’s latest adventure. Such tales had always reminded Elizabeth of the trouble she found herself in, and of how Charlotte, being six years her senior, had helped her get out of it. It had been Charlotte, Elizabeth’s eleven-year-old self had wished to emulate, for she had never believed she could be the equal of Jane, in regards to beauty. But Charlotte’s gentle self-possession had been evident to Elizabeth, even as a young child, and had been an attribute she had long admired about her friend.

  ***

  “What may you tell us about your patroness, Sir?” Mrs. Bennet questioned sweetly, causing Lydia to giggle sharply in her plate, although an elbow from Kitty caused her to quiet down almost instantly. Elizabeth could not help but let out a small sigh, as she knew her mama had planned some sort of an exchange with Mr. Collins, in which she would gain the upper hand. And Elizabeth could well guess her strategy for doing so.

  Mr. Collins, for his part, seemed to be surprised at being addressed so directly about his noble patroness, although it did nothing to dampen his ardour at responding.

  “My most gracious gratitude for your inquiry, my dear Mrs. Bennet. Indeed! I must write to Lady Catherine and inform her of the graciousness of the company that I am surrounded by, as well as the beauty of my fair cousins! To answer your question, cousin, my most esteemed patroness is Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh. She had but one daughter, Lady Anne de Bourgh, of very extensive property, in addition to her being the sole heiress of Rosings Park. I occupy a humble parsonage that lays on the outskirts of Rosings. It is, I believe, approximately three and a half miles, as Rosings is a rather large estate.”

  Before he could continue his speech, Mrs. Bennet, not truly interested in the odious man’s patroness, interjected with a faux look of confusion on her face, “Would you say, Lizzie, that Netherfield is three and a half miles away from Longbourn, or is it a little less? You know her your Mama forgets these things.”

  Mr. Collins, who had been eagerly glancing between Elizabeth and Jane, as though he could not choose which sister to focus upon, at Mrs. Bennet’s words had given Elizabeth his full attention.

  Through slightly clenched teeth, Elizabeth replied, “I believe it is within three miles Mama, an easy distance if you are an avid walker.” She ignored the low whines of Lydia and Kitty as they struggled not to burst into laughter.

  Before Mrs. Bennet could reply, Mr. Collins replied eagerly, “Indeed, indeed, my fair cousin! I am most surprised, yet gladdened to see that we share such an activity, for I walk to Rosings at least twice a day, and I have found it to be the easiest distance in the world.”

  Elizabeth quickly took a sip of wine, for she knew her mama’s response to such a reply. Mr. Collins was making it rather easy for her mama to rebut, something that she no doubt relished. Giving Mr. Collins a rather wide, satisfied smile, Mrs. Bennet replied, “Indeed, sir. When you have an enjoyable destination in mind, such a walk is nothing at all!” She spoke as though she had never disliked Elizabeth’s propensity for walking everywhere she went, “My dear Lizzie, especially. She has just become recently engaged to a friend of the gentleman who is leasing the Netherfield estate.”

  At her words, Mr. Collins turned to Elizabeth with an incredulous, yet somewhat down stricken look on his face, and congratulated her in the same manner at which he had been speaking the entirety of his visit. “May I asked the gentleman’s name, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked rather formally.

  Elizabeth gave him a smile, for she had guessed this game, “Indeed sir. I am engaged to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.” Before Mr. Collins could respond, her mama continued with what she had been unwilling to say, “Indeed, Mr. Collins. Mr. Darcy has a grand estate in Derbyshire., Pemberley, I believe it is named, and he has ten thousand a year!” Her eyes gleamed in triumph, as she misread the reasons behind Mr. Collins’ expression.

  When he finally spoke, he was no longer excited, but rather formally pitched, “You mean to tell me, madam, that you are engaged to Mr. Fitzwilliam George Darcy, of Pemberley in Derbyshire, who is the nephew of my most esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine?”

  Mrs. Bennet’s smug smile magnified even more, as she answered for Elizabeth. “Indeed, indeed sir! It is a small world after all. That we shall be soon connected to your most noble patroness---”

  Mr. Collins abruptly set down his cutlery with a clatter, uncaring of whether or not he broke any of the china, for it would be his soon. When he spoke, his voice rang with enough authority, that he knew his message would be clear. “I must leave the table, madam, and inform my patroness of this development. And indeed, I shall leave you with this--for I do not know the circumstances, although I shall find out as soon as I am able--but Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy is betrothed to his cousin, the most beautiful, Lady Anne de Bourgh, and has been for several years.” Ignoring Mrs. Bennet’s outraged shrieks, Mr. Collins left the table, and headed straight for his room, eager to write of the night’s events to his patroness.

  At the head of the table, Mr. Bennet could not help but chuckle as he watched his cousin leave.

  “And just what is so humourous to you, sir?” Mrs. Bennet complained piteously. “Now we shall have to address this matter with Mr. Darcy and keep Mr. Collins confined to the house before he goes about the whole of Meryton and attempts to end this engagement!” Although she believed Mr. Darcy to be honourable where it counted, she could not believe the same of Mr. Collins, who seemed determined to ruin her family in every way that he could.

  “Madam, Mr. Darcy has left for London to meet with his solicitors. If he had intended on abandoning Elizabeth without an engagement, he would have hardly paid a call to Longbourn and offer a false engagement. He has no connections here, save his friend. Even if Mr. Darcy were to abandon Lizzie, Mr. Bingley is so universally liked that I have doubts that his reputation would suffer. I think it safe to say that Mr. Darcy is not playing Lizzie false, and has been the subject of expectations from an overzealous relative.”

  It worked, as she was soon smiling again, and had forgotten about their cousin. It was as though he had never b
een there. She was, no doubt planning a three-pronged attack against the spread of Lady Catherine’s fantasies that her nephew was not planning on fulfilling, in order to protect the damaged honour of her second born. Some believed that his wife favoured Jane above all of their daughters, but in these moments, Mr. Bennet could see that it was not true--that his wife was a lioness who would defend each and every one of her cubs with equal fervour.

  ***

  As he departed his carriage and entered his uncle’s townhouse, Fitzwilliam’s mind drifted back to his previous evening. After a tiring ride, upon initially reaching his townhouse, knew he had four items on his agenda that needed to be completed before he could retire for the evening.

  Firstly, he composed a short note, informing his solicitor that he would need to make an appointment at his earliest convenience.

  Secondly, a note was written to his Fitzwilliam relatives that he would be calling on them with some news of great importance, during such a time that they would all be gathered.

  Thirdly, a letter was written to his aunt, Lady Catherine informing her of his engagement to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. If there had been time, he would have ridden out to Rosings Park and informed her of this development himself, but as he planned to take an announcement out in the three major papers of London, he did not wish to have his aunt learn of his engagement via the newspaper. A letter would have to suffice, although he knew she would have words with him either way.

  Lastly, he composed a letter addressed directly to Miss Elizabeth, informing her in greater detail of his itinerary and gave her the date he believed he would be returning. He hoped he would not need to spend more than a week at most in London. He was most eager to have the mechanics of their wedding completed, so that they might begin the rest of their lives together.

  A marriage of equals.

  “Uncle,” Fitzwilliam gave his uncle a courtly bow, as he surveyed him through slightly hooded eyes. It was rather early, seven o’clock, and he knew that his aunt was still abed. It was only he and his uncle who kept country hours, although Charles had instructed his staff while at Netherfield to adhere to both for the varying tastes.

  Setting his paper aside, the Earl of Matlock greeted his nephew merrily. Inwardly, Fitzwilliam hid his smile. He knew that where his aunt and uncle were concerned, there would be no issue. While they were members of the upper echelons of society, his aunt and uncle held no pretences about them. He knew that once they were introduced to Elizabeth, that unlike Lady Catherine, they would help usher her into her new position as the mistress of Pemberley. Her unfortunate relations would have no bearing on their opinion of her, and for that he was grateful.

  Unbidden, but welcome, Fitzwilliam’s mind drifted to the first day of Miss Elizabeth’s visit to Netherfield, to visit her sister. Miss Bingley had immediately decried her appearance as wild and uncivilized, and some part of Darcy had agreed. She wore a simple gown with no ornamentation, and had taken off her bonnet upon entering the house. Her curls, even more riotous in the heat, had ringleted most attractively, without the aid of hot irons. Even though it had been improper at the time, and perhaps still was, he had imagined her hair, ringlets down her back. Obviously it would be in an informal, private setting--the master and mistress chambers in Pemberley.

  Would she laugh at him then, as she had while teasing him with Miss Bingley, while flinging her curls behind her shoulder?

  ***

  It was well after midnight that Elizabeth had been able to extricate herself from her mama’s clutches. Earlier that evening, a lone rider had approached Longbourn, delivering a note and a parcel from Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth had foolishly began to open the letter, believing her mama and younger sisters’ to be within their own rooms, readying themselves for bed, when her mama had quickly snatched the letter from her trembling hands. Once again, her mama’s shrieks of delight filled her ears and left them ringing long after her mother had calmed down.

  To Elizabeth’s shock and her mama’s delirious ecstasy, Mr. Darcy had not only sent her a short note, informing her of his plans over the next several days before their wedding, but also a gift. Although Longbourn gave the Bennet family a comfortable, yet modest amount of income, there were a few pieces of jewellry that had been passed down from each of Longbourn’s mistresses. Her mama, recognising the value of such pieces, only allowed them to be worn on certain occasions. Jane had worn their mama’s garnet and pearl earrings when she was first presented to society, and Lydia had eagerly duplicated her elder sister in her choice less than a year ago. Elizabeth had chosen a simple accompaniment, a delicate cross necklace with tiny seed pearls embedded within each of the four tips. She wore it more often than not, every Sunday, and for special occasions. The mother of pearl clasp decorated a simple gold bracelet, and was the perfect accompaniment to her necklace.

  Elizabeth went to undress, and stood briefly, her mind turning over to the gift Mr. Darcy had sent, as well as his note. While brief and perfunctory, much like the man himself, she could not help but dwell upon it.

  A small prickling sensation nagged her senses, as she felt a pin slide from her hair. Elizabeth relaxed into her sister’s gentle and capable hands, as Jane performed the duties of a lady’s maid--as they did nightly for one another. Her gown was drawn over her head, and her sister gently passed her nightgown to her. Jane had already readied herself for bed, her thick blonde hair pulled into a single braid over her shoulder.

  The two sisters slid into their bed, and Elizabeth drew the curtains. Behind her, Jane settled in close, offering Elizabeth unspoken support.

  It was too still, too calm.

  She had to say something, to try and make sense of it all.

  “Mr. Darcy did not say much to me, when he came to Papa’s study that day.” Jane did not speak, but embraced Elizabeth from behind, her chin resting on Elizabeth’s shoulder.

  Immediately after that ill-fated day, Elizabeth had refused to speak of Mr. Darcy. At least not willingly. The past few days, it was all that she could do, but escape the house or pretend to have a headache while her mama received intrusive callers, some of whom had not stepped a foot into Longbourn since her mother and father had just been married. Only two people within the Bennet household respected her wish for silence on the matter--her papa, and of course, her dear Jane.

  “I do not understand him,” she confessed quietly, her dark eyes drawn to the brief sliver of moonlight that penetrated the curtains. “While at Netherfield, he behaved in the same odious manner as he did at the Assembly, and then again at Sir Williams’! Yet his manner in Papa’s study was quite the opposite. He was…” here she paused, searching for the words, as she could not adequately describe the warmth she felt in the crook of his arm, or his gaze, “...gentle.” she finally described.

  Drawing in a ragged breath, Elizabeth turned to her sister, face to face. In the darkness, she could barely make out the features of her sister’s face, but she knew Jane to be as open and honest now, as she was in any other situation. “I believe that I was in shock, Jane, when I walked into Papa’s study. I could not believe that Mr. Darcy would ever make an offer for me. But even more perplexing was how he was not angry. He…….” she paused again. “He offered me his arm.” she finished lamely. It sounded stupid to her ears. He was a gentleman; she a gentleman’s daughter. By that definition, they were equal.

  “Perhaps we have misjudged Mr. Darcy, Lizzie.” Jane started quietly, although her tone was serious. “I know you believe me to be naive, but I understand the ways of the world. Mr. Darcy could have left Hertfordshire the moment he heard the news. Instead he made an offer of marriage. He also could have made his anger and resentment, if he had any, clear in the manner in which he addressed you.”

  “He was gentle.” Elizabeth whispered softly, slowly realising the truth in Mr. Darcy’s actions.

  “Perhaps,” Jane suggested, “this marriage may not be as bad as you believe it to be. While you did not have the best of beginnings, the both of you now h
ave a chance to begin anew. Already you are learning that first impressions do not give the full weight of a man’s character. Perhaps Mr. Darcy has, as well.”

  Elizabeth could only burrow herself into her sister’s arms. It was not often that she found herself dwarfed by her sister’s observations or opinions. Before, she could always laugh at her sister’s naivete, as she believed herself to be the opposite. However, it must be true.

  The proud, taciturn Mr. Darcy had admitted to himself that he was wrong! Of course, he did not tell her that, but his changed manner and comportment meant even more than the words--pretty though they may have been.

  They would be married soon, she would become his wife, and for the first time in days, the thought did not fill Elizabeth with dread. Burrowing into her sister’s arms even more deeply, Elizabeth fell into a calm, deep sleep.