The Ball At Meryton: A Pride and Prejudice Alternative Novella by Bronwen Chisholm

by Bronwen Chisholm

  THE BALL AT MERYTON

  by

  Bronwen Chisholm

  HARVESTDALE

  PRESS

  Cover Photography by Jake Cundiff.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Several passages in this novel are paraphrased from the works of Jane Austen.

  THE BALL AT MERYTON

  Copyright © 2014 by Bronwen Chisholm

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I cannot begin without acknowledging the muse herself, Jane Austen. The characters she created have touched so many over the years. I humbly offer my attempt in the hopes that it brings some joy.

  To my amazing critique group. Though many of the men groaned at having to hear a Pride and Prejudice alternative, they were always supportive and gave wonderful insights. I might have even converted a couple regarding their feelings on Regency era literature.

  To the enthusiastic readers at Beyond Austen.com. Thank you for welcoming me into your fold. Your easy acceptance and supportive comments gave me the courage to take the step to publish.

  And most importantly, thank you to my beta readers, friends and family who put up with my perfectionist tendencies and did not allow me to bog down in too many rewrites. I promise I will attempt to be less obsessive with the next one.

  Chapter One

  “I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Mr. Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty.”

  “YOU are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

  “Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”

  “Which do you mean?” and turning around he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt ME…”

  Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 3

  ***********

  The next dance began and Elizabeth excused herself, being without a partner again, and slipped into the hallway, away from prying eyes. She had laughed off the hurtful insult and refused to allow anyone to know how deeply it had cut her. Growing up in Jane Bennet’s shadow, Elizabeth knew she was not as handsome as her sister. Many in their small community had told her she was a jewel, but she had never believed them. For a total stranger to say it so coldly, she realized she truly was ‘nothing compared to Jane’ as her mother always said.

  Stepping outside into the chill night air, Elizabeth paused and looked around. She nodded and smiled toward some of the coachmen who milled about before turning to walk down the street. The lamps cast a soft glow upon the ground, and she decided a short walk to the corner and back would brighten her spirits; or at least allow her to regain control of her emotions. As she approached the end of the street, she was met by the strong smell of spirits and heard a man’s soft voice emanating from the shadows causing icy chills to run down her spine.

  “G’ ev’ning, m’lady.”

  ***********

  Inside the assembly hall, Fitzwilliam Darcy remained irritated with his friend. Suspecting the Bennet sister had overheard his comment, he realized how ungentlemanly it had been. As was occurring frequently, he had been ruminating over his sister when Charles Bingley had approached. He mentally kicked himself for making the comment, causing his irritation to increase even as his thoughts returned once more to Georgianna.

  The last time he had seen her was at their Derbyshire home, where he had taken her after leaving Ramsgate. She had been a shadow of her former self and he hoped all she needed was the familiarity of Pemberley in order to recover. Unfortunately, she had yet to do so and his last memory was of her clinging to him when he told her he was going away; seeking comfort and reassurance that he would return and forgive her foolish behavior. Concerned for her lack of self-esteem, he wondered if she would rebound from the disappointment and betrayal she had suffered. He feared she would never see the value in herself beyond her dowry.

  A flash of orange alerted him to the movement of Miss Caroline Bingley, Charles’ sister. She appeared to be navigating through the crowd toward him, most likely anticipating a dance. He moved decidedly to avoid her. He was in no mood to listen to her simpering descriptions of the local gentry and, more importantly, wished to avoid her suffocating advances. Once he was certain her attention was captured by others, he stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.

  As he left the whispers and stares of the people of Meryton behind, Darcy drew a deep, cleansing breath. Standing on the front steps of the assembly hall, he looked longingly at Bingley’s coach wishing he could slip inside and return to Netherfield Park undetected. Instead he turned and walked down the street, wondering how long he could remain away before Bingley would feel the need to locate him.

  He was surveying the town, thinking how much Meryton looked like every other small town in England, when he heard a scream and a low grunt. Turning toward the sounds, he saw a woman running toward him, looking behind her as if she feared being followed. He caught her easily in his arms just before she collided with him.

  Wild eyes turned toward him as she struck at his chest. Instinctively, he drew her to him and held her tightly, his thoughts drawn once more to his sister and the way he had held her at Ramsgate after the betrayal.

  “Darcy! What is the meaning of this?” Bingley stepped up behind him effectively pulling him from his reverie. Obviously his absence had been noted sooner than Darcy anticipated.

  Looking down at the young woman in his arms, he realized her gown was torn from her shoulder and there appeared to be scratches there. “Bingley, your coat!” Darcy directed.

  Bingley remained still, staring at him, not completely comprehending.

  “Quickly, man!” he said as he nodded toward the lady.

  His friend removed his coat and placed it about the young woman’s shoulders. Darcy noticed a crowd was beginning to form just as he felt the young woman begin to relax and go limp. Afraid she had swooned, he swiftly lifted her and began to move toward the Bingley carriage. Bingley stared after him, his jaw hanging open as Darcy announced he was taking her home.

  “Where do you live?” he whispered softly to her. Her voice was barely audible, but he made out Longbourn. He gave the direction to the driver as he placed her in the carriage and climbed in beside her.

  He could see her shaking and placed his arm about her, attempting to draw her to his side so she could share his warmth. She pulled away but, being no match for his strength, finally leaned her head against his shoulder with a sigh.

  “You are shaking. Are you hurt or cold?”

  She shook her head, but said nothing.

  “Can you say what happened?”

  Again she simply shook her head, and it appeared she struggled to maintain her composure. Darcy was uncertain he wished to have another lady crying upon his breast as Georgie had, so he did not ask any further questions. By the time the carriage drew to a halt in front of Longbourn, her trembling had stopped and she was able
to leave the carriage on her own. Darcy escorted her inside, holding her arm gingerly.

  As they entered, an older gentleman appeared at the end of the hall. “Lizzy! You have returned early …” The man stopped as he took in her condition and the stranger beside her. His voice lowered menacingly, “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Oh, Papa,” she rushed into his arms, the tears she had held at bay overtaking her.

  Mr. Bennet embraced his favourite daughter as his accusing eyes met the stranger’s. “Sir, I demand an explanation!”

  Darcy held his hands out in a helpless gesture. “I wish I had one to provide, sir.”

  “You may begin with your name?”

  He straightened, removed his hat, and bowed formally. “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”

  “And how is it my daughter has come to be in your company and in this condition?”

  “I stepped outside the assembly hall for a breath of fresh air when your daughter nearly collided with me. She was in great distress. A crowd was beginning to form and I thought it best to remove her from the area.”

  Mr. Bennet looked about, his frown deepening. “So you travelled with her, alone, away from a group of onlookers?”

  Darcy realized the implications and looked down at the hat clutched in his hands. “I thought only of her safety,” he said softly.

  “Where were her mother and sisters?”

  “I believe they remained inside the hall, sir.”

  “You sent no one for them?”

  “Forgive me, I was not thinking clearly.” He raised his head and met the man’s accusatory gaze.

  “No, sir, you were not!” Turning his attention to his daughter, he called for Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper. “Come, Child, go with Hill.” He watched as the matronly woman led Elizabeth up the stairs and out of sight. Taking a deep breath, he turned and looked Mr. Darcy over. “Derbyshire, you say? Who are your friends, Mr. Darcy? How come you to be in this neighbourhood?”

  “I am staying at Netherfield Park with my friend, Charles Bingley. I believe you have met him.”

  Giving a slight nod, Mr. Bennet sighed. “Follow me,” he said softly, the fight draining from him. He led the younger man into his study, pointed to a chair, and crossed to the table by the window to pour them each a glass of port. “Now, sir, from the beginning.”

  “I told you, sir, I stepped outside the assembly hall …”

  “No, sir, from the beginning.” Darcy looked uncomfortable as Mr. Bennet handed him the glass. “You were acquainted with my daughter, were you not? Certainly you saw her inside the assembly hall.”

  Darcy nodded as he looked into the amber liquid, feeling Mr. Bennet’s eyes upon him.

  First taking a sip of the spirits, he began explaining how he had been out of sorts and Bingley had attempted to convince him to dance.

  Mr. Bennet looked at him strangely. “You attended an assembly with no intention to dance?”

  Darcy’s colour rose.

  “Come, something weighs on your mind, my boy. Out with it. You will feel better once it is said.” Taking the seat opposite, Mr. Bennet crossed his feet upon the ottoman and waited.

  Surprise suffused his features as Darcy looked at the man. He could hear his father’s voice using those same phrases on so many occasions. Out with it. You will feel better once it is said. He remembered the relief he felt once he had unburdened himself and the wisdom his father had imparted to him in most every incident.

  This stranger using his father’s words seemed to unlock his lips. Before he could stop himself he was telling Mr. Bennet of the events of this past summer when a once trusted friend had betrayed him by attempting to elope with his sister in order to gain her dowry. He explained how his sister had always been shy, but she was now a shadow of her former self.

  “Forgive me, sir. I am not at my best in social settings. Amongst strangers, I fear I appear at my worst.”

  Nodding sagely, Mr. Bennet motioned for him to continue.

  Darcy admitted to the slight he had given to Elizabeth and saw Mr. Bennet’s expression change to one of dismay. He hurried to say, “Truly, sir, I did not look closely at your daughter, but a mere glance, before making the comment solely in an attempt to convince my friend to leave me be.”

  Setting his feet upon the ground, Mr. Bennet leaned toward his guest. “And you believe Lizzy heard you?”

  “It appeared to amuse her. I saw her laughing with another young lady while glancing my way,” he offered.

  Mr. Bennet shook his head ever so slightly as he tapped a finger against his lip. He knew Elizabeth put forth a confident air but, when it came to her looks, she was very insecure. It did not normally upset her, but there were times she was affected by it.

  “Later I looked about, but did not see Miss Elizabeth in the assembly hall.” Darcy frowned. “I did, however, see Mr. Bingley’s sister and wished to avoid her. I maneuvered my way through the crowd until I was certain she had lost sight of me, and then I slipped outside. Once there, I saw no need to return immediately and decided to take a short walk. That was when Miss Elizabeth ran into my arms. My thoughts went immediately to my sister; all I could think was that I must protect her. I had to remove her from harm.”

  Mr. Bennet’s brow rose. “Were you looking for my daughter when you went outside?”

  Darcy’s jaw dropped open before he quickly snapped it shut as he considered the idea. “Perhaps I was, in an attempt to apologize for my ungentlemanly behavior.”

  Nodding pensively, his host asked, “And now, sir?”

  Not completely certain of the gentleman’s meaning, but realizing from their earlier conversation he had compounded the problem for the lady, Darcy sipped the liqueur. The fact that she was attacked was a compromising situation, but he then carried her into a carriage and rode away with her, unaccompanied. Everyone saw him with her and no one else. He swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through him. “Sir, I am a gentleman and will take responsibility for my actions.”

  Mr. Bennet studied his glass as he pondered the situation. A carriage was heard drawing up in front of the house and he sighed before finishing his drink. “I believe that will be my wife and daughters. We may be able to ascertain what was seen and said.” He instructed Darcy to remain in the study while he went to greet his family.

  Clearly in a nervous state, Mrs. Bennet fumbled with her bonnet and cloak until Mr. Bennet arrived and assisted her. When all had been divested of their outerwear, he led them into the parlour.

  “Oh, Mr. Bennet, you cannot imagine what has occurred.” His wife’s handkerchief fluttered alternately at her forehead and chest as she spoke.

  “I am certain all will be well,” he said softly as he placed comforting hands on her shoulders and nodded for Hill to take her mistress upstairs. “Make sure Mrs. Bennet has some of her calming tea, Hill.” She began to escort her ward away, but he stopped her. “How is Miss Elizabeth?”

  The trusted servant smiled sadly and assured him she was sleeping. He nodded before turning his attention to his other daughters.

  His youngest, Lydia, flounced into a chair, complaining she did not understand why they had to leave the ball so suddenly. Catherine, who they called Kitty, appeared torn between concern for her older sister and her desire to follow her younger sister’s lead.

  Ignoring them, he turned to his eldest daughter and asked what was being said in Meryton. As was her way, Jane was very positive; convinced no one would say anything.

  He saw a frown cross his middle daughter’s face. “Mary?”

  She startled, unaccustomed to being addressed by him.

  “What are your thoughts?”

  Nervously she glanced toward Jane then back to him. “I fear Jane will see the best in everyone, but when we were gathering our cloaks and bonnets, I heard Mrs. Long telling Lady Lucas that Lizzy is ruined for certain.”

  Mr. Bennet nodded and sighed. “Well, it has been a long and eventful night. Off to
bed with you, but be mindful of your mother and sister who are resting.” The sisters filed past him, kissing his cheek and saying good night as they ascended the stairs.

  With heavy steps, he headed down the hall and paused outside his study door to contemplate his next move. Taking a deep breath, he entered and closed the door behind him while Mr. Darcy looked at him expectantly. “We will know for certain tomorrow, but I fear my daughter’s reputation has been ruined.”

  Darcy looked down in resignation. “Whatever you wish of me, I shall do.”

  Mr. Bennet poured himself another glass of port. He offered more to Mr. Darcy who refused as he still nursed his first glass.

  “So, young man,” he settled back into the chair facing Darcy and took a sip. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Darcy took a deep breath, but before he could begin, he glanced at the clock on the mantle. “Forgive me, sir, but the carriage in which I arrived will be needed by the Bingleys for their return to Netherfield. Oh, and Miss Elizabeth was wearing Mr. Bingley’s coat.”

  “Of course, of course.” He called Hill and gave instructions for the coat to be placed in the carriage and for the carriage to return to Meryton with word he would see to Mr. Darcy’s safe return to Netherfield. As the housekeeper left, Mr. Bennet turned expectant eyes back to the young man. “You were about to say?”

  ***********

  Elizabeth awoke suddenly and looked about her room. The icy hand which had grabbed her in her sleep could not be found. As everything became familiar to her, she slipped out of bed and reached for her warmest dressing gown. Stepping quietly into the hall, she stood still and listened to the sounds of her home. A rising and falling tide of whispers and giggles flowed from Kitty and Lydia’s room, but the other rooms were silent. Everything was dark, except for a glow coming from the lower floor.