Consequence of Jealousy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Aubrey Anderson

  Mr. Bingley smiled broadly, and answered in the affirmative. “Yes, I am very glad he is here. Not simply for your sake, but for my own. I have learned a great deal in these first few weeks. Darcy is a harsh taskmaster when warranted.”

  Elizabeth turned her attention back to Miss Bingley. “Mr. Darcy has shown a great deal of affection for your family. Not many young gentleman would have been so generous with their time, at least in my experience, especially in a foreign town.”

  Miss Bingley could not respond to that, and so she merely gave Elizabeth a tight smile, and started sipping tea. Mrs. Hurst did the same. The rest of their visit passed, as they exchanged inane comments for a remaining quarter of an hour, before it was time for the Bingleys and Mrs. Hurst to leave and call on the next house. Mr. Bingley assured them that they had included Mr. Collins in their invitation, an invitation which Elizabeth hoped would be disregarded by the clergyman.

  ***

  Fitzwilliam arrived at Netherfield about an hour before supper. It gave him enough time to wash away the grime that had accumulated on his person throughout the ride, and also gave him a chance to compose himself in peace and quiet before he was to face Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. He knew that Miss Bingley harboured some sort of tendre for him, although he did not know if it was because she truly cared for him, or if it was due to his position. He supposed they had not been in company long enough. Barring a few visits for tea and accompaniment to dinner, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and Charles had traveled to spend a week at Pemberley, about six months before Charles had leased Netherfield. Fitzwilliam had invited Charles to shadow his movements, to observe him as the Master of Pemberley. Shortly before leaving for Netherfield, he had also thrown a small house party with the small party. It was then that he believed his sister had begun to write to Miss Bingley. At the time, he had encouraged it due to her shyness.

  However, Charles had informed him of his sister’s reaction to news of their engagement, namely that she had planned on attempting to convince Charles, Hurst, and Mrs. Hurst that they should pack up Netherfield and leave before Fitzwilliam returned. He could not understand Miss Bingley’s actions, although he understood her feelings behind them. She too had been concerned about the burgeoning relationship between Miss Bennet and Charles, and the Bennets response to it. However, he was a bit confused at her response, as his stay was not contingent upon whether or not Charles stayed at Netherfield.

  He would not cut Miss Bingley publicly--he would never do that to Charles--he would not hesitate to inform her privately that any invitation that included the Bingley family, which included the Hursts, would contain a permanent caveat that Miss Bingley was not to set a slipper onto his property. He would of course, also revoke her right to write to his sister. Hopefully, it would not come to that. Miss Bingley was still young, and had been somewhat spoilt. She moved well in society, yet she had not come to the realisation that society games could not compare to real life--a home with a warm fire, a wife, and children.

  Family.

  His cheeks tinged somewhat with red as he imagined children with Miss Elizabeth. Would they have her curls, he wondered, her bright, shining eyes? Fitzwilliam recalled seeing her that very morning, as she had walked three miles to Netherfield to inquire after her sister. She had taken off her bonnet, as the day had grown rather hot. She had a few beads of perspiration, that curled her hair most attractively from its uniform appearance. His own dark hair had been impenetrably thick and wavy since he was a babe.

  He imagined a son, much like himself, like his own father.

  A daughter, who took after her mother.

  ***

  “How was your ride, Darcy?” Charles inquired after the fish course had been served.

  Fitzwilliam glanced up from his plate. “It went well, Charles.,” he replied. “Nothing out of the ordinary to report. An easy distance, as it always is.”

  “Good, good.,” his friend replied absentmindedly. “We visited Longbourn today, to deliver the invitation to our ball. We had a wonderful visit, did we not, Louisa?”

  A few chairs down from him, Hurst snorted rather loudly, before returning back to his plate of food. For her part, Mrs. Hurst, who sat across from her husband seemed a bit embarrassed. Fitzwilliam could only imagine that Miss Bingley made some sort of remark, as she was often fond of doing. He would need to speak to Charles soon.

  “It was a nice visit, Charles.” Louisa agreed softly. “We had the opportunity to speak to Miss Elizabeth about wedding plans, I do believe she stated it was her intention to discuss them with you, Mr. Darcy.”

  At her words, Fitzwilliam felt a slight smile cross his face. “Thank you, Mrs. Hurst,” he replied, “I have written out the advertisement, and have left them with my secretary. The banns shall be read within the week, and we shall pick a wedding date after that.”

  “I am all astonishment, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley drawled, “that you have not not decided on a date. Surely a man of your stature must have other commitments that may interfere with a date that Miss Eliza chooses.”

  Fitzwilliam regarded her coolly, not wishing to entertain her question. “We will be discussing a date together, Miss Bingley.”

  Miss Bingley was undeterred. “A charming fellow, a Mr. George Wickham,” her eyes lit up in curiously, as she realised that Fitzwilliam was interested in the name, “had been seen speaking to Miss Eliza yesterday, at her aunt’s infamous card party. Both of them were seen to be rather friendly. Soon thereafter, a most horrid rumour began to spread throughout Meryton. The same as it did here within Netherfield. How curious that Miss Eliza was present in both places. An interesting coincidence, is it not?”

  Silence reigned. Charles spoke not a word, and Fitzwilliam doubted Hurst cared enough to involve himself in his welfare nor his sister-in-law’s games, and Mrs. Hurst began to play with her bracelet.

  Fitzwilliam met Miss Bingley’s interested gaze, head on. “It is, Miss Bingley, and I would trouble you not to repeat gossip within my hearing. I have no stomach for it.” His appetite ruined, he abruptly stood, made his apologies, and excused himself to go to bed.

  After he had left the dining room, Fitzwilliam’s thoughts turned back to what Miss Bingley had insinuated. It was, of course, ludicrous to believe that Miss Elizabeth had spread any sort of rumours within the mere three days he had been gone. However, apparently, Miss Elizabeth had not only met Wickham, but had been charmed.

  He would have to correct this, for any acquaintance with the man would not be born. He supposed they would now have to push up their wedding date, for no doubt her two youngest sisters would be swanning around the man, due to the commission he had purchased. Wickham always did look well in a uniform, Fitzwilliam thought ruefully. He would call on Miss Elizabeth the next day, and they would straight this mess out.

  Chapter Eight

  “Do you know what you wish to say first, to him, Lizzie?” Mary inquired as she sat on Elizabeth and Jane’s bed, watching as Jane carefully unraveled a perfectly formed curl from its wrapper. Upon receiving knowledge that Mr. Darcy had arrived at Netherfield that previous night, not only had Mrs. Bennet ordered a special dinner to be prepared for the following evening, she had also commanded Jane to wrap Elizabeth’s hair, in order to dissuade the general unruliness due to her natural hair style. Nothing would be spared for Elizabeth’s young man, and Mrs. Bennet was not to be bargained with.

  Both Jane and Mary studied Elizabeth intently, for they were awaiting her answer. Elizabeth wished to look away, but she knew that would upset her hair, and in turn upset her mama--which was not a good situation to be in a mere hours before Mr. Darcy’s visit, her poor nerves were frazzled as it was. She pretended to study her hands.

  “I do not know,” she finally admitted. “Two nights ago, even yesterday, I was ready to confront Mr. Darcy with what Mr. Wickham has said, but now I do not know if it will be worth the bother.”

  “How so?” Jane queried, a perplexed look marring her natural, delicate fea
tures. “The truth shall always be worth the bother. I know you do not believe that Lizzie, and why should you? But perhaps in Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham’s case, one of the gentlemen have been deceived by someone else. I cannot believe that Mr. Darcy is so bad a man, and Mr. Wickham was so amiable and genial.”

  Elizabeth turned to face her sister. “Jane, you may never be able to see the bad in people. I envy you. But I cannot help but feel somewhat uneasy of Mr. Wickham.”

  “Did he make you feel uncomfortable?” Mary wished to know, as it was a feeling she had often associated with Mr. Collins. At first, she had felt guilty over such feelings, for Mr. Collins was not a bad sort of person, and was a man of God, of the cloth. But his presence irritated her, and he had been calling every day since the card party. If he had been interested in discussing any literature or even the current sermons on morality, she would not find him to be so bad. But all the man wished to speak of was Lady Catherine. Mary did not believe that such veneration should be bestowed upon anyone but God, especially from a clergyman.

  Elizabeth frowned. “In a sense, yes. I found his actions to be at odds with his manner.” At both Mary and Jane’s confused expressions, Elizabeth rushed to explain. “The rumours around Meryton are varied. Some,” here she she wished she could stop the pink as it spread through her cheeks, “have stated that I forced my way into Mr. Darcy’s room--” she could not bring herself to say “bed” no matter how many times she went over it within her own mind, “and the latest have stated that Mr. Darcy forced himself into my room, and, perhaps, upon me.” she finished in a rush. “If Mr. Wickham believed that story to be even remotely true, why would he be so eager to share a story that would cause me even more appropriation in marrying him? It does not make sense. One of them must be lying. Yet how shall the truth change my circumstance?”

  “You would know that you were marrying a moral, or an immoral man.” Mary stated with an air of finality.

  “I do know that, Mary, that is the problem. Mr. Darcy could have left our family to deal with the aftermath, and no one would have blamed him one jot. Yet he did the correct and moral action. Perhaps he is not as arrogant as I first believed, yet arrogant enough. Perhaps Mr. Wickham is also arrogant.”

  Jane patted Elizabeth’s hand lovingly as she finished styling her younger sister’s hair. “I am naive to you, Lizzie. But I do believe you should speak to Mr. Darcy if the matter has been pressing on you. Do not allow matters to fester and rot between you.” Squeezing her sister’s hand, Elizabeth nodded her agreement.

  “And what of you?” Jane queried her sister, Mary, as she gently patted Elizabeth’s hair.

  Mary seemed surprised to be addressed. “What of me?” she replied.

  Jane replied easily. “Mama has been speaking of a new mistress of Longbourn who will not usurp her position, so I can only believe that she expects Mr. Collins to propose. Do you believe it to be a good match? His position as a vicar must be of some recommendation to you.”

  Mary considered her words. She had already made up her mind that when Mr. Collins proposed, she would turn him down, and had already begun to form a list as to the reasons why she would do so. “I do not believe so,” she finally replied. “We are not compatible.” How else should she say that even she found Mr. Collins to be an unmitigated bore? Before, all she had ever wished for was the perfect, moral gentleman to come and sweep her off her feet, who also enjoyed reading and the pianoforte, yet she now knew that she should remember to not wish for her prayers to be answered just so. Now she realised that she should have prayed for her superior.

  Jane seemed to understand. “That is important--”

  Elizabeth interrupted her playfully. “It is indeed, sister. We must all be jealous, for we are provided with multiple examples each time you and Mr. Bingley cross paths!”

  Jane blushed at her sister’s reference, as the three of them knew she would, yet did not disagree with the sentiment. Elizabeth felt happiness bloom within herself. Her elder sister was well on her way to becoming engaged, while her next-youngest sister surprised them all. All would be well in the Bennet household, that she knew.

  ***

  “I hope you are well, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth greeted softly, still unable to comprehend that she was this man’s betrothed.

  Mr. Darcy had sent a servant with a letter addressed to Elizabeth, while breakfast was still being served. Of course, because Mr. Darcy’s letter had been brought straight to the table, Elizabeth had held it within her hands for only a few moments before Lydia snatched it from her hands to deliver it triumphantly to their mama--who had fawned and shrieked excitedly over Mr. Darcy’s fine hand and “gentle regard.”

  “I shall leave Mary in with you and Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet had told her daughter seriously, “for I require Jane within the greenhouse. But do remember to invite your young man to dinner, child!”

  “I am well, Miss Elizabeth.” Mr. Darcy smiled gently at her, and she found herself mirroring his actions. Mary sat in the corner, her nose primly stuck in one of her sermons, but Elizabeth knew she was watching carefully.

  “Will you please sit down?” she queried, about to ring Emma to bring the tea service in.

  Mr. Darcy hesitated. “Actually Miss Elizabeth,” he started, his gaze betraying towards the corner Mary had situated herself in, “I had rather been hoping that you and I could take a walk, if you would not mind.”

  Elizabeth studied him curiously, for what she believed would not be the first time this day. “Of-of course, Mr. Darcy,” she stated, “allow us to gather our shawls and bonnets.”

  “Good, I shall inform your father, and will meet the two of you in the hall.” He left, and did so. Elizabeth and Mary followed.

  “Why do you suppose he wants to go for a walk? Don’t all gentlemen enjoy riding?” Mary queried as they gathered their garments.

  Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip as she dressed, “He walked with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst at Netherfield. But only on the circuit, not the path into the woods. Perhaps he wishes to speak to me without Lydia and Kitty giggling at the door. Perhaps he wishes to please me.”

  Mary squeezed her hand, and then followed her down the stairs.

  ***

  Mr. Darcy had guided their walk, so it was no surprise to Elizabeth that their party ended up walking the same path she had taken as she walked from Longbourn to Netherfield, when Jane had been ill. Of course, he was the stranger and only knew Netherfield’s grounds, and the road to Meryton and Longbourn. He did not know the winding paths as well as she did. She wondered if Pemberley had the same untamed beauty. Derbyshire had some of the finest wooded areas in the country, according to her Aunt Gardiner.

  As the walk progressed, Mary fell further and further behind them. After a certain distance, Elizabeth decided to speak to a curiously silent Mr. Darcy.

  “Did you wish to discuss a particular topic, Mr. Darcy?” she asked. He seemed startled at her direct line of inquiry, although he should not have been. She had always been rather direct with him. Except, when she wasn’t. This was not one of those times.

  Mr. Darcy cleared his throat, and glanced back at Mary, who was moving at a rather sedate pace.

  “Indeed, there was, Miss Elizabeth, and I wished to get as much privacy as I could.”

  “I understand,” Elizabeth started. “Growing up with sisters, I learned very early that there were no secrets in our household. I am glad you wished for a walk, because I also had a matter I wished to discuss with you.”

  Mr. Darcy seemed uncomfortable. “If you do not mind, I would hear your inquiry first..”

  “Very well,” Elizabeth started nervously. “I wished to ask you about a Mr. Wickham.”

  Fitzwilliam abruptly stopped walking, but struggled to control himself, as he did not wish to upset his betrothed. It was better that she asked him, instead of him interrogating her like a criminal. But he could not stop his reactions, the coldness that enveloped him at the mention of Wickham’s name.

>   “What is it that you wish to know?” he asked her coldly, mentally chastising himself for his tone. Miss Elizabeth seemed unaffected, if unsure of herself.

  “I have thought long and hard as to whether or not your answer would change how I feel about this engagement. I do not believe it will. Do you know the circumstances of our meeting?” she asked calmly.

  Even though he knew the circumstances, he wished to hear it from her. So he shook his head.

  “My sisters and I had walked to Meryton yesterday, where we were introduced to Mr. Wickham for the first time by one of the other officers. He was invited to my aunt’s card party, and it was there that we spoke.”

  “What did you speak of?” Fitzwilliam asked, almost in a rush.

  Elizabeth considered his words, his look. This was important to Mr. Darcy. “He had approached me, presumably to congratulate me on our engagement. He then informed me of your prior connection, but insisted that you had had a falling out and to tell me of the falling out would cause me to think ill of you. When I did not ask him for more detail, he acted as though he would cause a scene if I did not stay and listen to him speak. I cannot help but feel that there is more to what he told me.” she finished hesitantly, studying her fiance’s face in order to ascertain his reaction. From his abrupt change in manner, something had caused a breach between the two men, and it was still enough to anger Mr. Darcy.