A Death at Rosings: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  “Shall we retire to the parlor, ladies?” Anne said, standing.

  Her words prompted a polite departure of the ladies, leaving Darcy alone with Whitaker. They headed to a nearby drawing room to take their port. Ignoring strict propriety, Darcy strolled to the window with his, looking out onto the grounds, using the lingering summer daylight to assess the level of care they were being given. He knew he needed to gather his composure before he could exchange pleasantries with the other man.

  Unfortunately, Whitaker obviously didn’t realize that. He strolled over to join Darcy at the window. “The grounds look to be in hand again,” he said. He took a sip of his port. “Excellent port.”

  Darcy nodded, though he hadn’t yet sampled it. He was sure all of the port his aunt had kept was deserving of the praise.

  “About Miss Bennet,” Whitaker said, his tone tentative. “What sort of family is she from?”

  “Her father is a small landholder in Hertfordshire,” Darcy said, struggling to keep his tone even. “There is a mother whose family is in trade and three more sisters. The estate is entailed, so they will have little when Mr. Bennet expires.”

  “I see, so not much in the way of a dowry,” Whitaker said. “A wife who’s not of the gentry and five daughters to marry off with little to recommend them other than their looks, which I must say seem exceptional from all I’ve seen. Poor fellow.”

  Darcy took a sip of his port to keep from speaking the words that sprang to his lips. Elizabeth was worth much more than her small dowry, whatever the sum. He drew in a breath. Of course, Whitaker wasn’t a man of great fortune. He would need to carefully consider what his bride would bring to his household.

  “I wonder if she has anyone waiting for her, back in Hertfordshire,” Whitaker said in a quiet voice, as if speaking to himself.

  “Not that was apparent when I visited there this past year.”

  “No? A sweet faced miss like that, with such an endearing lack of conceit, and no suitors? Hertfordshire must be overfull of women with few gentlemen to spare.”

  Darcy nodded, working not to grind his teeth.

  “It was endearing, wasn’t it, the way she was so surprised that I turned to speak with her? As if she’s accustomed to being ignored. Of course, with an older sister like Miss Elizabeth, one could see how that would be.”

  Whitaker’s words slowly registered.

  “Do you suppose they hold to all that nonsense of the elder sisters wedding before the younger? How many of the five are older than Miss Kitty? A man might have to wait some time for four girls to find husbands.”

  “Miss Kitty is the second youngest, but I don’t think Mr. Bennet would be particular on that matter. Even if he chose to be, his wife would not allow it.” Darcy felt a lightness in his heart. Elizabeth would still be free. The man was a fool for preferring Miss Kitty, but Darcy thanked providence for it.

  “Of course, I daresay at least one of the older sisters might be married soon,” Whitaker said, giving Darcy a meaningful look out of the corner of his eye.

  Ah, so the man wasn’t a fool, but perhaps a keen observer. He thought that Darcy had intensions toward Elizabeth. If only that could be true. “We should rejoin the ladies.”

  “That we should,” Whitaker said with a friendly smile.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following day, Mr. Darcy joined Elizabeth and Kitty on their walk with Mr. Whitaker. Elizabeth wanted to still be angry with Mr. Darcy. He was so wrongheaded in some of his views that it was nothing short of infuriating. Yet, if they didn’t address but a few delicate topics, he’d come to be her favorite of companions.

  So, as she was resolved not to address said topics on their walk, they spent a very pleasant time following Mr. Whitaker and Kitty about. Mr. Whitaker pointed out various flowers and birds, and Kitty seemed genuinely enthusiastic. Anne would have been more successful, Elizabeth thought, if she’d combined educational books for Kitty with educational walks. The books alone were not enough.

  Their walk seemed to set a precedent because after that they walked whenever the weather permitted. Elizabeth quite enjoyed herself, but the frequency and increasing length of their walks drove home that neither she nor Mr. Darcy must truly be needed in Rosings any longer. Not if they had time to spend so frivolously.

  Though the walks revealed to her that she might be able to consider her obligation to Anne ended, and she missed her father and Jane, Elizabeth knew she couldn’t leave quite yet. Not when Mr. Whitaker was clearly courting Kitty, who’d never before had a suitor. Though Kitty wouldn’t be alone should Elizabeth leave, she didn’t feel Anne or Mrs. Allen would provide enough in the way of chaperoning. Anne could hardly be stirred from her books, nor Mrs. Allen from the kitchen.

  So Elizabeth remained, and knew why she remained. What she didn’t know was why Mr. Darcy did. He undoubtedly had his own affairs waiting. He’d already done more than any cousin could be expected to do and had likely saved Rosings from ruin.

  Did she dare hope that he remained simply because of her? She’d come to value his company quite highly. She looked forward to those moments each day when she could see him. In her heart of hearts, she realized she’d come to care, and lamented the fact.

  What good could come of caring for Mr. Darcy now? She’s missed the opportunity to be his. There was no conceivable way he would propose a second time. A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex, who would not protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman? There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!

  The more walks the four of them took, the more Elizabeth regretted her refusal of Mr. Darcy’s offer. She was coming very close, she realized, to being quite in love with him, something she could not allow. Unable to deny herself the enjoyment of spending time with him, she instead endeavored to harden her heart, keeping her greatest grievance with him always present in the back of her mind; his adamant refusal to tell Bingley what he must be allowed to know about Jane.

  She might be failing Jane by not convincing Darcy to speak to Mr. Bingley, but Elizabeth was resolved not to fail Kitty. Therefore, as Mr. Whitaker’s attention to Kitty didn’t seem to be diminishing, she decided she must know more about the man. The next time they walked, she deliberately slowed her pace, falling well behind Mr. Whitaker and Kitty, though still keeping them in sight.

  Elizabeth looked up to find Mr. Darcy training a questioning glance her way, obviously noting her abnormal pace and wondering what was behind it. She wet her lips nervously. For all the easy comradery they’d achieved, speaking on matters of the heart with Mr. Darcy still seemed a bit awkward.

  “Please tell me about Mr. Whitaker,” she said. There was no point in mincing words. “Why has he been so concerned with Rosings? Was it his original intension to court Miss de Bourgh, do you think?”

  He blinked, as if rearranging his thoughts. Did she imagine the disappointment that flickered in his eyes? What had he supposed she’d lingered so far behind the others to speak to him of?

  “His father was a good friend of Sir Lewis de Bough,” Mr. Darcy said, his tone even. “Mr. Whitaker the senior died about three years ago.” He gestured toward where Mr. Whitaker and Kitty meandered, nearly out of sight. “This Mr. Whitaker didn’t get along with Lady Catherine.”

  Elizabeth resisted snorting at that or commenting that it was understandable.

  “There was no real rift, but he didn’t visit. Mr. Whitaker has a nice little property, perhaps fifteen hundred pounds a year,” he added. “He is the only son. His three older sisters are all married and he is the youngest child.”

  “What do you know about his character?”

  “Nothing bad. He gave Rosings more real help than any of the other neighbors. Lady Catherine was not popular.”

  “And since people were denied access to the local heiress, there was no reason to come.”

  “True,” Mr. Darcy replied.r />
  Elizabeth looked up the path, where Kitty and Mr. Whitaker had stopped walking and spoke together quietly. “I hope you don’t think I’m gossiping. I mean only to investigate. As her only relative near, I am responsible for Kitty.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad your sister has become such good friends with Anne. Lady Catherine didn’t really allow her to have friends.”

  “That’s sad. I’ve had Jane and Charlotte.” Jane’s name reminded Elizabeth of Darcy’s role in her favorite sister’s current unhappiness.

  By the tightening of his mouth, she guessed that Darcy recognized that. “Mr. Whitaker told me that his father felt his friendship with Sir Lewis made him responsible for Lady Catherine and Anne,” he said, gratefully not addressing the more volatile topic she’d inadvertently raised.

  “Do you mean that Mr. Whitaker’s father was responsible or that Mr. Whitaker is responsible?”

  “The father first, and after his death the son. He told me that our responsibilities are not always limited to the people we like. He said that Miss de Bourgh didn’t need his help as long as her mother was alive, but he felt an obligation to help her now.”

  “He sounds like a good person.”

  “I’ve never heard anyone speak ill of him.”

  “And you are such a gossip that everyone tells you every scandalous story,” she teased, eliciting a slight smile. She looked away, searching for Kitty and Mr. Whitaker. It was dangerous to be alone with Mr. Darcy when he smiled like that.

  “I’ve just been gossiping with you,” he replied in an amused tone.

  “Tisk. We’ve already established that I am a concerned relative investigating my sister’s suitor. I daresay you have so little experience with gossip you can’t separate the two.”

  “You cannot convince me you have so much.”

  “I have four sisters,” Elizabeth said. “It would be impossible for me to avoid it, no matter that I do try.”

  “I have but one sister. She’s in as much need of a friend as Anne was before Miss Kitty arrived.”

  “Yes, and you said Miss Darcy is enamored of the pianoforte?” Elizabeth said, quickly steering the conversation to a safe topic, for the look he directed at her was oddly intent.

  “She is. Georgiana plays well, I am pleased to say."

  Mr. Darcy allowed the shift in conversation and they continued their walk in harmony. Later, when they returned to Rosings and bid the gentlemen farewell, Kitty followed Elizabeth to her room. Elizabeth didn’t say anything as they walked the halls. Kitty likely wished to speak of Mr. Whitaker, and that wasn’t a conversation for corridors. Once they were closeted in her room, Elizabeth turned to her sister, only to find Kitty glaring at her.

  “I saw you back there making eyes at Mr. Darcy, Lizzy,” Kitty said. “How can you enjoy spending time with that man? You know how he treated Mr. Wickham.”

  Elizabeth pursed her lips. She hadn’t thought to disclose Mr. Wickham’s lies to Kitty, wanting to shelter her younger sister from the truth. Yet, if Kitty was old enough to be courted, she should no longer be treated as a child. “Mr. Wickham was paid three thousand pounds when he asked to give up the living he’d inherited. He has no complaint against Mr. Darcy.”

  “I suppose you learned that from Mr. Darcy.” Kitty’s tone was skeptical, her brows raised.

  “Let’s suppose I didn’t learn anything from Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, surprised at Kitty’s reaction. It had become so clear to her that Darcy was by far the better man, she wondered that everyone didn’t see it. “The very first evening I was in Mr. Wickham’s company, he asked me what I thought of Mr. Darcy. I told Mr. Wickham I disliked him.”

  “As do I,” Kitty said. “He called you plain and wouldn’t dance with anyone.”

  “Yes, but consider this: Once I declared my dislike to Mr. Wickham, he told me all about what Mr. Darcy supposedly did to him. Meanwhile, he said that he could never publically expose Mr. Darcy out of respect for Mr. Darcy’s father. This was after knowing me for less than a day. How was he to know I wouldn’t tell everyone? If he told Mama this, or if I did, the whole county would know it in a week.”

  “Yes…” Kitty said, sounding uncertain.

  “Mr. Wickham also told me he would not back down from Mr. Darcy, but he didn’t attend the ball at Netherfield. Does that not speak of a man steeped in guilt?”

  “Mr. Wickham wanted to avoid a scene,” Kitty protested.

  “I think you know that Mr. Darcy would not have created one,” Elizabeth said, holding Kitty’s gaze.

  Her sister frowned. “I suppose not. He hardly speaks at all, except to you. He doesn’t seem as if he’d want a whole ballroom full of strangers attending to him.”

  “And let us not forget,” Elizabeth said, pressing her advantage. “Mr. Wickham told everyone about his supposed mistreatment after Mr. Darcy left, when it was likely that Mr. Darcy would never be in the neighborhood again, not giving him a chance to know of the slander, let alone refute it.”

  “I guess,” Kitty said, looking confused.

  “When they first saw each other that day we were walking to Meryton with Mr. Collins, Mr. Darcy turned white and Mr. Wickham turned red. Which one do you think was embarrassed and which one was angry?”

  Kitty didn’t respond, her eyes wide and worried looking.

  “Wickham started courting Mary King when she inherited ten thousand pounds. He ignored her before that,” Elizabeth said, adding her last, most telling piece of shareable evidence.

  “Lydia’s seeing a lot of him,” Kitty blurted out.

  That wasn’t good, Elizabeth thought. “Could you write her and tell her about Wickham?”

  “She wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Try,” Elizabeth prompted, but she knew Kitty was right. Even assuming Lydia wasn’t too headstrong to listen to anyone, she led and Kitty followed. “Thank you for telling me.” She smiled at her sister, trying to ease the worry that now lined her face. “Maybe I’ll write Papa. You should go see Miss de Bourgh and then ready for supper.”

  Watching Kitty leave, Elizabeth tried to reassure herself that Wickham would do Lydia little harm since she had no money. She racked her mind for something she could do. She could write their father, but that would likely prove useless, since he would do nothing. Their mother would do less good, possibly even encouraging Lydia. Elizabeth sighed, hoping nothing would come of Kitty’s revelation, but filled with dread nonetheless.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The following day, as Elizabeth and Kitty joined Mr. Darcy and Mr. Whitaker in the foyer in preparation for their walk, Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived. Elizabeth thought he looked quite well, showing no ill effects from having been worried for his father. Of course, they’d had letters saying the earl was recovering well, so there was no longer any reason to worry.

  “Why, good of you all to come out to greet me,” the colonel said, stopping in the doorway to look around at them. “Though, in truth, I can’t say I’m familiar with all of you.”

  “Richard,” Mr. Darcy said, bowing to his cousin. “May I remind you of Mr. Whitaker. I believe you’ve met him once or twice. He lives nearby and has been of great assistance to Rosings in this time of need. Mr. Whitaker, Colonel Fitzwilliam, my cousin.”

  “It’s good to know someone’s been picking up my slack,” the colonel said with a bow for Mr. Whitaker.

  “I am sure I’ve only done what any neighbor would,” Mr. Whitaker said. “Mr. Darcy has done all of the real work.”

  “May I also present Miss Bennet’s younger sister, Miss Kitty Bennet,” Mr. Darcy continued.

  Kitty dropped a curtsy. Elizabeth was pleased with how naturally done the gesture was, and with the demure turn of her gaze. Nothing like the Kitty that Lydia encouraged.

  “Miss Kitty Bennet, it is an honor to meet another of the exceptional Bennet sisters,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, bowing.

  “Thank you, Colonel,” Kitty said. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My sister has
spoken highly of you.”

  “You must all be headed off somewhere,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “Don’t let me keep you.”

  “We were about to take some fresh air,” Elizabeth said. She glanced at Mr. Darcy, wondering if he would invite his cousin to accompany them. It would be rude not to, but Darcy was the most appropriate person to invite his cousin to join them. Secretly, she hoped the Colonel would say no, for she was sure he’d end up walking with her and Darcy.

  “Would you care to join us?” Mr. Darcy said after casting a look at her.

  “No, thank you,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I shall get cleaned up and present myself to Anne. She’s well?”

  “She is,” Mr. Darcy said. “May I assume from your arrival that your father is now fully recovered?”

  “He is, but he’d have only himself to blame if he weren’t. He tripped over one of my mother’s pugs, you see. That’s what went awry. When Mother received the letter about Lady Catherine’s death, she shrieked as if the devil himself had walked into the parlor. My father came running and tripped over her favorite pug, breaking his arm and hitting his head. It didn’t look good for a time, let me tell you, but he’s recovered nicely. Tough old thing, my father.”

  “Your mother must have been mortified,” Elizabeth said. She couldn’t imagine how wretched she’d feel if she’d done something as silly as shriek over bad news and gotten her husband injured in the process. “I’m so pleased to hear your father is well.”

  “They tell me mother was quite upset.” A twinkle lit his eyes. “They also say she actually seemed more worried about my father than that dratted pug. Who would have thought? She loves her dogs more than her children, and I should know.”

  “Was the pug hurt?” Kitty asked.

  Elizabeth hid a smile. Apparently, Kitty would side with the Colonel’s mother when it came to the value of a prized pug.

  “Only startled. My father says that if no other good comes of the incident, at least the pug’s been improved. It used to be the dog made my father walk around it. Now it gets out of his way.”