Teatime Tales: Short and Sweet Austen-Inspired Stories

by Leenie Brown

  Elizabeth shook her head. “She may not have had a London Season, but she has not lacked for suitors. There are acceptable, some would even say preferable, gentlemen in the country.”

  He leaned forward and regarded her intently. “Forgive me. I did not mean to offend.”

  She studied him for a moment. His manner and expression spoke of sincerity, but she needed to be certain. “I do not yet fully understand your character, Mr. Darcy. If I choose to place my trust in you, will you treat what I tell you with respect as a gentleman?”

  Shock suffused his face. “I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, I am indeed a respectable gentleman and not given to gossip.” There was a clipped edge to his words.

  “I do apologize for offending you, Mr. Darcy, but there are those who would find the sufferings of the unpolished members of country society to be fertile ground for disparagement. I hope you understand I could not subject my sister to such treatment, and needed to be certain of your honour.”

  Darcy felt a moment of unease. He comprehended the need to protect a sister from such censure, yet his conscience accused him of being just such a person at times. “I understand, Miss Elizabeth. I would not place my sister in such a position.”

  She nodded her approval before looking again to her left. “Do you see where Jane sits?”

  Darcy followed the direction of her gaze to where Jane sat on a fallen tree not far from the road.

  “That tree is the reason she is not yet wed.”

  Darcy’s brows knit together. “A tree has prevented her from acquiring a suitable match?”

  “No.” Elizabeth shook her head. “She had a suitable match. That tree took him from her, two years ago today.” She sighed. “I am sure you met the Gouldings at the assembly since they have a daughter who is to come out this year, and you have a fortune.” She raised an eyebrow while her lips lifted in a small wry smile. “Mrs. Goulding is as much on a hunt for a worthy husband for her daughter as mine is for my sisters and me–though my mother is motivated by fear of an entail while Mrs. Goulding is motivated by pride of position.”

  She noted the look of surprise on his face. “Yes, Mr. Darcy, I know what my mother is, but I also understand what makes her that way.” Her smile faded as she stared once again at her sister.

  A shadow passed over her face, stealing the light from her eyes and leaving in its place a deep sadness. He wanted to place his hand on hers, to offer some little amount of comfort, but he could not. He could only listen to her quietly begin her story as she fought to control her emotions.

  “Two years ago, Robert Goulding, Mrs. Goulding’s eldest son, stole my sister’s heart. She was completely and utterly besotted. She quite openly demonstrated her admiration for him and he for her. They were seen together in public often. At every assembly, he would dance the opening and closing sets with her, and other than myself and Miss Lucas, the sister of his closest friend, he refused to stand up with another. It was not long until he petitioned my father for her hand and was granted permission. She, of course, accepted with alacrity. The date was set for after the banns were read and that evening, a celebration dinner was enjoyed by all at Longbourn.” Elizabeth absently fingered the edge of her handkerchief. It was not an easy subject of which to speak. Remembering the joy of her sister only made the grief harder to bear.

  “There had been a great deal of rain the previous fortnight, and due to the deplorable condition of the roads and a threatening storm, my father invited Mr. Goulding to remain at Longbourn for the night. But, Mr. Goulding, overcome with enthusiasm for his prospects, wished to return home and share his joy with his parents and sister, so he set off, promising to return on the morrow.

  “He never returned on the morrow or any day thereafter. He was found lying beside the road where that tree lies now. The storm broke as he was riding home, and it is speculated that the tree, upon which Jane sits, was brought down during the storm, frightening his horse.” She swallowed and closed her eyes. “They say the horse threw him, and the impact as he landed fractured his neck. His death was mercifully quick.” A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away.

  “She comes here to remember him. She does not visit as often as she did, and this may be her last visit; for today, she comes to release him.”

  “To release him? If he is no longer living, has he not already been released?” asked Darcy quietly. He did not wish to distress her further, but he did not understand her meaning.

  “He has been released from this earthly vale of sorrows, but he has not been released from her heart.” She turned to look at him. “Though there have been many who have attempted to win her affections, she has been afraid to open herself to another. However, she has recently found reason to consider allowing herself to seek again the happiness she once had.”

  Her response puzzled him. “I would think that such an action would make you happy, not melancholy. I would be pleased to see my sister regain her heart after tragedy.” He thought of his sister’s recent despondence and how he longed to see her emerge from that sad existence.

  “Perhaps, if I did not fear she would be injured in doing so, I might be happy, but I do fear for her.”

  “What do you fear?”

  Elizabeth considered her words. “The answer might be considered offensive by some.”

  “You speak of my friend?”

  “Yes. I fear his constancy or more precisely his lack of constancy.” She stopped and pressed her lips together as if keeping the words she wished to speak from escaping.

  “Your fears are not without grounds.” Darcy shifted his position slightly. “My friend has a habit of seeking my opinion more often than he ought, and his sisters do hold more sway over him than is proper. Are these the basis of your fears?” Her eyes were wide with surprise, and she nodded. “Just as you know what your mother is, I know what my friend is.”

  Her posture eased and a small smile tugged at her mouth for a moment then was gone. “You are correct. I fear she shall put hope in a hopeless situation and her heart will, once again, be shattered. I do not know how often a heart can endure such pain before it becomes unable to mend.”

  “A hopeless situation?”

  “I may live in the country, Mr. Darcy, but I am not unaware of what society thinks of marriage. She has no fortune and a family with ties to trade, circumstances which would not increase Mr. Bingley’s standing as a newly landed gentleman. His sisters are also opposed to such a union as it would hinder Miss Bingley’s chances of an advantageous match.”

  “But if they loved one another, would that not be enough?” The question had been on his mind for some time. He had tried to follow society’s ideals for marriage, but he could not commit himself to a lady who did not engage his affections. So, he asked, not just in reference to his friend, but also in hope of finding an answer for himself.

  “For Jane it would be. She does not need the approval of her friends and family in the same manner Mr. Bingley does. I fear he will be dissuaded from his suit before a fine, stout love might be formed.”

  Understanding dawned upon him as he considered her answer. It was not just Bingley who sought the approval of others. Was he not doing the same when he dismissed his feelings for Elizabeth? Why was such a match imprudent? What value did wealth and position hold in the grand scheme of felicity in marriage? Finally, he felt his mind settle on an answer to the question that had perplexed him for so long and smiled.

  “Then we shall have to see that he is not dissuaded.”

  “You would promote such a union?” The shock in her voice told him a great deal about how she viewed him. Had he truly made such a dreadful impression? Steps must be taken to alter her opinion for he was resolved to not only aid his friend in finding happiness in marriage, but also to secure the same for himself.

  “I would promote such a union if it is one in which love truly exists. I have seen enough advantageous marriages that cause pain to all involved and do not wish such an existence on my f
riend.”

  She smiled at him as the clouds that had darkened her eyes seemed to lift. “I still do not know what to make of your character, Mr. Darcy, but I think I like it. Shall we embark on this project together? You shall encourage your friend to make his own choices while I guard my sister’s heart?”

  He extended his hand and shook hers. “Partners,” he said. “Should we think of a name for this project and perhaps a code to communicate without being suspected by your sister or my friend?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “You make it sound like a game children would play.”

  “It is similar to those my cousin and I engaged in when we were children, but must games be confined to the young? I only hope our project will be as enjoyable as those games of our youth.”

  “It shall be as long as we are successful.” Elizabeth’s cheeks grew rosy. “I am loathe to admit it, but I was never a gracious loser.”

  Darcy chuckled. “Then we have something in common, Miss Elizabeth. Do you remember when I said my temper was too little yielding? I fear it has been so since I was young, though I hope I have brought it under good regulation as an adult.”

  There was a twinkle of mirth in Elizabeth’s eyes and humour in her voice. “Did you sulk and pout when you lost, or did you seek vengeance?”

  “I did not pout.” A hint of pink crept onto his face.

  “But you sulked and sought vengeance?” She struggled not to laugh at the thought of a young Mr. Darcy planning his revenge on his cousin.

  “I like to think I sought justice rather than vengeance. And you, did you sulk and pout or seek vengeance?”

  She grimaced. “All three. As much as I would like to think I have brought such sentiments under good regulation. I am ashamed to say that my temper is still too quick and my ability to forgive too slow. It has always been a constant battle, though I no longer resort to pulling hair and hiding bonnets.” She smiled wryly and shook her head. “It really is understandable why my mother complains about my trying her nerves. I am afraid I was not an easy child, very unlike Jane.”

  “Children may be similar, but they are rarely the same. My sister, Georgiana, is so gentle. She speaks softly and rarely in haste even when provoked while I am more apt to offend.”

  “You care for her a great deal.”

  He nodded and stood as he looked in Jane’s direction. “And you care for her a great deal.” She rose from her spot on the stile, so he might step over it. He took his horse’s reins and turned to her. “Miss Elizabeth, it has been a pleasure to speak with you. I shall return to Netherfield and see how the north wind blows while you tend to the southern seas.”

  Her brows drew together in question. He looked about and then leaned a bit closer and whispered, “the code.” She nearly giggled at the playful tone in his voice.

  “Of course, the code.” She waited as he mounted his horse. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I do feel as if a burden has been lessened.”

  He touched his hat and nodded. “My pleasure.” Then, giving a cluck and a nudge to his horse rode off toward Netherfield.

  Elizabeth watched until he disappeared into a copse of trees before she went to collect Jane and return home.

  19 November 1811

  “Bingley, is that not Miss Bennet?” Darcy chuckled as his friend eagerly looked about to find her.

  “Where?”

  “There, in the group standing before the milliner’s?”

  “I say, Darcy! It is indeed Miss Bennet. I think I should know her figure anywhere. She is quite the beauty, is she not?”

  Darcy agreed, but furrowed his brows. “Is her beauty all that you find to recommend her?”

  Bingley drew his horse to a stop and gave his friend a quizzical look. “Why? Do you perceive she has little else to her credit, for I have found her most agreeable and kind? A more gracious woman I have not met! I should hate to think of her as the others from whom you have saved me.” He paused. “You cannot believe she is only after my money?”

  “No!” The force of Darcy’s response shocked not only Bingley, but Darcy as well. Calming, he continued, “I could not do such a disservice to Miss Bennet. Her manners are too open, too accepting, too honest for me to believe her capable of fortune hunting. But, it matters not what I think of her, Bingley. I wish to know your intentions.” He gave his friend what he hoped was a reassuring look, one that would hopefully stave off some of the displeasure that was certain to follow his next comments. “Are they honourable or are you merely toying with her affections?”

  “How could you ask such a thing?” Bingley sputtered. “I would never toy with the affections of a woman such as Miss Bennet. She is not a lady of the ton. I do know that paying particular attention to a lady in the country increases expectations far more quickly than it does in town. I am not without sense.”

  “I never said you were without sense. But there are times when your feet lead and your mind follows, and I would not wish for Miss Bennet to be injured.” Darcy studied the reins in his hands. “I know too well the devastation of a lady’s spirit that can result from a man’s insincere attentions.”

  Bingley placed a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “I could never be like him, Darcy. I would never injure any lady in such a fashion. My intentions are honourable.” Bingley withdrew his hand and nudged his horse to begin walking. “Your concern does you credit, my friend, though I am quite put out that you would think so little of my character.” He eyed Darcy with mock indignation.

  Darcy grinned. “Swords at dawn?”

  Bingley laughed. “I will repeat; I am not without sense. That is not a challenge that I ever intend to accept. Nor shall I accept pistols or fists. I value my life, limbs, and countenance too much, I am afraid.”

  They continued speaking amiably as they drew near where Miss Bennet stood. Darcy found himself seeking out the source of the sweet laugh that haunted his dreams. He smiled as he saw her, and catching his eye, she smiled back.

  “Ladies,” said Bingley, as he dismounted. “It is good to see you. We were on our way to pay a call at Longbourn.” His eyes rested on Jane, causing her to blush. “Is that not so, Darcy?”

  Darcy agreed with a bow. As he rose, he noted the men who stood with the group. An officer stood near the youngest Bennet sisters, while two other gentlemen stood on either side of Miss Elizabeth. The first was dressed in the dark garb of a parson and the second–Darcy clenched his jaw to keep from speaking. He could feel the flush that spread rapidly up his neck and across his face. The man tipped his hat slightly in Darcy’s direction.

  Darcy forced a smile and drew a calming breath. “Wickham, what brings you to Meryton?” He attempted to keep his voice within the realm of civility even if it was just on the edge of it.

  Elizabeth watched the colour fade from Mr. Wickham’s face then quickly return, along with his ready smile, as he spoke of joining the militia. She noticed Darcy’s hand clench and unclench at his side as if he wished to do bodily harm to the gentleman with whom he spoke.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she began, breaking into what seemed to be a very strained and awkward conversation. “I see an introduction to Mr. Wickham, whom we have just met, is unnecessary, but do allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr. Collins. Mr. Collins this is Mr. Darcy of…”

  “Pemberley in Derbyshire,” interrupted Mr. Collins, giving a low bow. “Forgive my presumption, sir, but I have the living at Hunsford, and I have often heard you spoken of with nothing but the highest praise. If I have the right of it, my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” he spoke the name with a peculiar inflection of grandeur as he always did, “is your aunt, is she not?”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Lady Catherine has often spoken of your mother in such lovingly affectionate terms.” Mr. Collins grasped a lapel of his coat in each hand and puffed out his chest just a bit. “She has described at length of how pleased she will be to have her daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh,” there was that peculiar inflection and the drawing out of the name that made
Elizabeth shudder, “installed as mistress of Pemberley.”

  “Mistress of Pemberley?” Bingley’s eyes were wide in astonishment.

  “Yes, Mr. er…” Mr. Collins looked to Elizabeth to give him the name.

  “Bingley. Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth.

  “Yes, Mr. Bingley. Miss De Bourgh and Mr. Darcy have been promised to each other for years.”

  “Impossible!” said Bingley.

  “I assure you it is not, Mr. Bingley.” Mr. Collins’ tone was condescending.

  Darcy closed his eyes and spoke slowly, “I am not now nor have I ever been promised to my cousin or any other lady.”

  Mr. Collins appeared affronted. “But your aunt has assured me…”

  “My aunt is mistaken,” said Darcy.

  “I cannot see how she can be mistaken about something of such great importance. She has spoken at length about how it eases her mind to know how well you will care for Miss de Bourgh as your wife for she approves highly of the way you have cared for your sister, though she admits there are areas where you could be more strict…” He placed a finger on his mouth to prevent himself from speaking further. .

  “How is your sister, Darcy?” asked Wickham.

  Elizabeth had thought Mr. Darcy’s expression had shown disdain at the assembly. She had thought he had shown displeasure when Miss Bingley was throwing herself in his path at Netherfield. She had considered his looks in her direction to show disapproval. But the unguarded anger that overspread his features at at Mr. Wicham’s inquiry made her question whether she had understood his looks at all! One could not mistake the disdain and loathing that flashed in his eyes as he struggled to compose himself. She was unsure why a seemingly innocent question would bring about such a response, but seeing it, she felt a need to be out of the presence of Mr. Wickham. He no longer appeared the charming gentlemen. His smile was not pleasing, but practiced and calculating.