A Death at Rosings: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  Her voice had grown a bit tattered as she read and Darcy could see tears in her eyes. She carefully folded the pressed petals back into the note and put it away, taking out her kerchief. Elizabeth patted her on the shoulder.

  Taking in Elizabeth’s face, Darcy realized it was the first time he’d seen her look on her mother with such tender sentiment. Usually, Elizabeth looked exasperated, embarrassed or amused by her mother, but this look was the loving look of a child for her parents. He glanced away. He, who hadn’t known the love of parents in many years, felt a twinge of jealousy. It occurred to him that, though she was often deserving of Elizabeth’s typical looks, there was much to be said for having a mother who loved you.

  “My apologies, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet said, tucking her handkerchief away. “I don’t know what came over me.” She glanced over his shoulder, where Jane Bennet and Bingley sat whispering. “A mother does so want to see all of her daughters happy.”

  “As is only natural,” Darcy said.

  Mrs. Bennet’s face grew contemplative. “May I ask why you and Mr. Bingley have returned to Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Mama,” Elizabeth said.

  “We’ve come for some fall sport,” Darcy said. He did enjoy hunting, so it wasn’t completely untrue. Elizabeth seemed pleased enough to see him, though, that he was starting to think he wouldn’t need an excuse for being there. He would offer for her, and she would say yes. Of course, that’s what he’d thought the first time he’d asked, so he didn’t dare be too confident.

  “Have you had any luck?”

  “We haven’t had the chance to hunt yet,” Darcy said. “We rode out today to select possible locations, but that is all.”

  “Well then, Mr. Darcy, I think you and Mr. Bingley ought to stay for supper,” Mrs. Bennet said.

  “We wouldn’t wish to impose,” Darcy said. “It’s already late for us to call on you, for which I apologize.”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Bennet said. “It would be no imposition at all. I understand neither of you brought your sisters with you, and you’ve shot nothing yet. Why, you’ll go back to such a quiet, empty home and no birds for your table. You simply must dine with us instead, mustn’t he, Lizzy?”

  “Do please stay to dine with us if you like, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “It really wouldn’t be an imposition. I’m sure my father would welcome other gentlemen to converse with.”

  “I am not as overwhelmed as I was with five daughters at home,” Mr. Bennet said, “but I am still outnumbered.”

  Elizabeth’s face persuaded Darcy. When she looked at him like that, as if she really did want him to stay, Darcy couldn’t say no. He glanced over his shoulder to find Bingley still speaking quietly with Jane Bennet, their heads close together and giving every appearance that they’d forgotten any other people existed. “We would be pleased to share your table. Thank you.”

  “Jane,” Mrs. Bennet said. Jane looked startled at being spoken to. “There’s a painting in the hall that Mr. Bingley hasn’t seen.”

  “A painting?” Jane asked, completely puzzled.

  “Yes, the one with birds. Since he’s here to hunt and hasn’t seen any birds yet, maybe he should look at some in the painting.”

  To remind him what a bird looked like? Darcy thought, amused.

  “There is another painting in the library that has birds in it. Maybe he’d like to see that one too.”

  Elizabeth mouthed the word ‘one’ to Darcy, holding up a single finger. She then held her thumb and finger less than an inch apart and mouthed a single word he didn’t catch.

  Bingley and Miss Bennet rose to go into the hall. As they were leaving, Darcy said to Bingley, “We’re staying for dinner.”

  “We are? That’s good,” Bingley said as they left.

  “I have to talk to the cook about dinner, with two unexpected guests,” Mrs. Bennet said, standing. Instead of leaving, she moved nearer to him. “You must think me terrible, Mr. Darcy, but Mr. Bingley simply must propose this time. My poor Jane was nearly undone when he left. It will break her heart if he does so again, and I won’t stand for it. You’ve been so good to our family, surely you must understand.”

  There was a fierceness in her gaze that took Darcy aback. He contented himself with a nod and she smiled, stepping out to the hallway, obviously trying to listen. Her look became intent and she held a finger to her lips, though he hadn’t given any indication he intended to speak.

  “I really have to talk to the cook about dinner,” she finally said, looking back into the room. “Besides, they are only talking about the painting,” she added in a lower voice.

  After Mrs. Bennet left, Darcy asked Elizabeth, “What were you trying to tell me?”

  She looked a bit embarrassed.

  “You were trying to communicate secretly? What were you saying?” Mr. Bennet asked, raising his eyebrows.

  She repeated her actions and said, “One.”

  “I caught that,” Darcy said. “What I don’t understand is the second part.”

  “Small,” she said, smiling. “It’s an exaggeration to say that the library holds a painting with birds. There’s one with one small bird.”

  “It’s a hummingbird,” Mr. Bennet said. “I don’t think it pertains much to hunting.”

  Darcy nodded his understanding and the conversation turned to hunting until Mrs. Bennet returned. Darcy wouldn’t have supposed it earlier in the day, but he enjoyed dinner. He didn’t even mind that Mrs. Bennet was silly. With everyone else being sensible, good conversation flourished.

  The one shadow on the meal was Jane Bennet. He now had both Elizabeth’s and her mother’s assurance that Jane Bennet loved Bingley, but he still couldn’t tell. Darcy realized he might have to admit to himself that he simply couldn’t read her expression as one might most women’s.

  If Jane Bennet’s feelings for Bingley weren’t clear, Bingley’s feelings for her were. Darcy was sure Bingley left dinner even more in love than ever. He wasn’t sure what Bingley should do about it, though.

  Before departing, Mrs. Bennet suggested they all walk together the following day. Her blatant attempt to keep Jane Bennet and Bingley together caused Elizabeth to look embarrassed, but Bingley agreed eagerly. Darcy was equally willing to return but he preferred to think he had the decorum not to permit his enthusiasm to show.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Elizabeth sat at the pianoforte attempting to practice. It was difficult, of course, as she kept looking over her shoulder out the window. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were due to arrive any moment to escort her and Jane on a walk.

  She’d tried for months to convince herself that it didn’t matter if she never saw Mr. Darcy again. Much as she’d longed to see him and had been sure there was a connection between them, theirs had been a somewhat tumultuous relationship. What manner of man would be able to look past her continued disagreement with him on the point of Bingley and Jane, and her harsh, regrettably, vehement refusal of a proposal of marriage? She worried he wouldn’t ever return to Hertfordshire. Yet, that last day they’d walked together in Kent, he’d seemed as if he cared.

  Then word came that he was there, at Netherfield. What was more, no sooner had Sir William left, after imparting the news of Mr. Darcy’s arrival, then he should show up at their door. With Mr. Bingley in tow, no less, and both of them in seeming accord and intent on seeing her and Jane. Mr. Darcy had even asked after her sisters and been polite to her mother. It could mean but one thing; he still wished to wed her.

  Her fingers stumbled over the keys, trembling at the thought of him asking again.

  “Elizabeth, do cease that racket,” her mother said. “Did you not practice once in Kent? How abysmal your playing has become, when I once liked it so well.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama,” Elizabeth said. She glanced at Jane, who sat stitching with apparent content. How could Jane be so calm? Her sister looked up at her and smiled, as if guessing Elizabeth’s thoughts.

  “Is that someone
at the door?” Mrs. Bennet said, peering past her out the window.

  Elizabeth swiveled on the bench. Outside, Mr. Darcy glanced up, catching her eye and smiling before turning his attention to the door she could hear opening in the foyer. Elizabeth exerted all of her self-control to stay seated.

  “A Mr. Darcy and a Mr. Bingley are here to collect Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth for a walk,” their maid said as she reached the parlor door.

  Elizabeth’s mother looked between her and Jane. “Well, off with you both. Enjoy yourselves.”

  Elizabeth jumped to her feet, taking up her shawl. “Yes, Mama,” she said, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek as she passed.

  “Yes, Mama,” Jane said, following.

  Together, they hurried to the front door and out to greet Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. They immediately set off, the four of them walking together. By the time they were out of sight from the house, they’d paired off into two couples.

  Elizabeth walked beside Mr. Darcy, stealing glances at him. It was a fine early autumn day, with a startlingly blue sky and pleasantly brisk air. They strolled through the scenic Hertfordshire countryside, bright with fall color. Ahead of them, Jane and Mr. Bingley walked with arms brushing, speaking in voices too low to hear. Elizabeth slowed her pace even further and Darcy adjusted his. Soon, Jane and Bingley could hardly be seen.

  When Jane and Mr. Bingley were out of earshot, Elizabeth decided she had to ask Mr. Darcy about them. If he’d come to see her for the reason she hoped, she needed to know what had transpired before she could give her answer with complete confidence. “Did you bring it up or did Mr. Bingley?”

  “I would like to pretend to misunderstand you, but I’m afraid you would only clarify,” Darcy said with a wry smile. “No, I didn’t have a change of heart. I did not tell Bingley about what you said until after we came here. He decided on his own that he still loves her and wanted to come here to reconsider proposing.”

  “I see,” Elizabeth said, relief filling her. The feeling was strong enough to make her reconsider her previous position, reflecting on Mr. Darcy’s stance. While he’d been terribly wrong in separating Jane and Bingley and in continuing to keep them apart, her response to the news that Bingley had returned of his own volition couldn’t be ignored. Mr. Darcy was right. Once the initial period of separation had ended, Bingley had to decide to return unprompted. She didn’t want Jane with anyone who didn’t love her enough to pursue that love.

  “As he is my friend and I wish to see him happy, I must ask, does she still love him?”

  Elizabeth turned to him with raised brows. Asking that was tantamount to declaring that he now believed her that Jane had, at one time, love Mr. Bingley. It was almost an apology, in a way. As such, she felt she must reply with the truth. “I’m not sure. She did when he left. She’s been sad, but she conceals it well and won’t speak about it. I don’t know if she was sad because she lost Mr. Bingley or because she lost his character.”

  “His character is fine. He thought he was doing what was right for both of them.”

  “I don’t think he was,” Elizabeth said slowly. “In fairness, I am not certain.”

  “If they marry now, will the ten months of separation be a bad thing? I’m assuming she forgives him.”

  “If she agrees to marry him, she will have,” Elizabeth said confidently. “You must know Jane well enough to see she isn’t a woman who would wield a slight as a marital weapon. She is the very soul of forgiveness.”

  “Speaking about forgiveness, you were justifiably angry with me last April. I completely misunderstood you. I apologized earlier for insulting your family, but I didn’t realize that I’d insulted you as well. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

  “Easily. I think we’ve both learned a lot since then,” she said. Should she tell him that she’d learned he wasn’t full of arrogance and pride, or that she wasn’t sure she could endure another two months without him?

  He stopped walking. Elizabeth turned to face him. She found she was almost holding her breath.

  “I also mentioned change of heart. I want to make it clear to you that my heart has not changed,” Darcy said.

  “Mine has, since last fall. It’s changed very much.” She searched his face, willing him to ask.

  “You know how much I care for you,” Darcy said. “Elizabeth Bennet, will you marry me?”

  She paused. Not because she wanted to increase the suspense, nor because she was uncertain of her answer. She wanted to chide him for putting his principles above their happiness. If he’d only mentioned her thoughts on Jane to Bingley months ago and put her greatest grievance to rest . . . and yet, she would love him less if he didn’t have those principles. “I will,” she said. “Gladly.”

  She stepped forward into his embrace, as she’d longed to do. When their lips met, his kiss was everything she’d dreamed it would be, but so much better for being real.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Logic told Darcy not to expect any difficulty in getting Mr. Bennet’s permission to marry Elizabeth, but he was filled with relief when Mr. Bennet said, “Yes, of course you have my permission. I’m glad to see such long-standing affection in a suitor for my daughter’s hand. Kitty and Lydia both wed quickly enough to make a father’s heart uneasy.”

  “Long standing affection?” Darcy repeated. Had Elizabeth told her father about his failed attempt to court her?

  “I agree that Lizzy is wonderful, but you aren’t going to tell me you fell in love with her in the less than twenty-four hours since you called yesterday. I can only assume your affection is born of your time together at Rosings.”

  “Staying at Rosings helped,” Darcy admitted, glad Mr. Bennet didn’t know of his humiliating first proposal. Besides, there was another issue they must discuss. “As I shall now frequent Hertfordshire, I must ask what people are saying about me? Sir William thinks I’m a hero and I’ve never seen Mrs. Bennet so welcoming.”

  “I think the gist of it is that you knew Wickham’s character was bad, but you refused to tell the world about him in the hopes that he’d reformed. You also didn’t think it was fair to use the weight of your wealth and position to give a bad name to the man who was your father’s favorite.” Mr. Bennet grinned, his clear enjoyment in telling the story giving Darcy a fair guess as to who put out that interpretation of events. “When you discovered that Lydia was in danger of being abducted, you got on your horse and rode across country to rescue her. You discovered Mr. Pratt was her one true love, and the two of you rescued her. Wickham left the country to die on a foreign battlefield to avoid fighting a duel with you.”

  “I discovered Miss Lydia was in danger because she wrote her sister that she was eloping. If she was eloping, she wasn’t abducted,” Darcy protested. “This all also ignores the facts that there were four of us in the rescue and most of the trip was by coach.”

  “Ah, but your modesty and natural reserve keep you from giving all the details.”

  “I don’t care for the idea of letting a lie stand, but the details would harm Mrs. Pratt. Neither you, your wife and daughters, or Captain Pratt deserve that.”

  “I agree,” Mr. Bennet said, his smile broadening. “It seems you must let the story stand. Don’t worry overmuch. Everyone knows they don’t have the whole story. It pleases them to make you a hero.”

  “I don’t want to be a hero, especially not for something I didn’t really do,” Darcy said.

  “That, as well as what you actually did, makes me think you deserving of the label,” Mr. Bennet said with more seriousness than he’d yet shown. “You and Elizabeth will never live here, only visit. Hopefully it won’t bother you excessively to keep silent on the matter.”

  Darcy nodded and they moved on to the happier subject of details about his upcoming wedding.

  In spite of his reluctant acceptance of what Mr. Bennet had done concerning his reputation, Darcy found the time he spent in Hertfordshire a trial. He’d been deferred to in the past because of
his wealth and connections, but this was the first time he’d ever been treated as a hero. He found it disconcerting, and not simply because it seemed to make him more approachable. It stirred guilt inside him, to be given credit for something he hadn’t accomplished.

  “It’s not a sensation I’m accustomed to or comfortable with,” he said to Elizabeth one day, after attempting to explain how he felt. It had been more than a week since his proposal, and there were still two Sundays before they could wed. They were on what had become their daily walk, trailing well behind Bingley and Jane. “I have no notion what to do regarding it, however.”

  “I’m afraid you shall simply have to accept it,” she said, smiling up at him. “The honor and principles which invoke such guilt in you will never allow you to gainsay the rumors.”

  “I’ve never expended so much effort worrying over a rumor,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Exactly, so why begin now? If you never troubled yourself to care about or correct uncomplimentary rumors, why worry over one that praises you? Look at it as restoring balance.”

  He narrowed his eyes. He wouldn’t call being labeled a hero balance.

  “As I see it, you should ignore all rumors, good or bad,” she continued.

  A slight vehemence in her tone gave him pause. “We aren’t still speaking of the rumor that I’m a hero, are we?”