Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 1

by Jennifer Lang

  ‘That is why I have come to Meryton. I did not intend to come until later in the year, but things are slow at home and so here I am. Just one thing, Denny,’ he said, as he helped himself to another glass of brandy. ‘Here in Meryton I have made no mention of my wife. Women are odd about that sort of thing. They will flirt to their heart’s content with a bachelor, but they are not so free with a married man, and I mean to have some fun here.’

  ‘Not too much fun, I hope. Remember, I have to live here and I will have to stay here when you have gone.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to put me beyond the bounds of society. But if any of the wenches are willing, then I won’t say no. And if you can provide me with any better sort of company I will be in your debt.’

  ‘Whether it is better or not, only you can decide, but I will be going to a party this evening and gentlemen are always welcome.’

  ‘Will there be any young ladies there?’

  ‘Yes, plenty of them. Some are antidotes – beware Charlotte Lucas, her parents are worried about her, she’s fast turning into an old maid, and they are always on the look-out for potential husbands. But there are plenty of other young women. There are five Bennet sisters, who are all lively and beautiful, some of them uncommonly so.’

  ‘Then I will come with you,’ said Wickham.

  ‘Oh, and there is just one other thing,’ said Denny. ‘Charles Bingley has rented a house in the neighbourhood and Mr Darcy is staying with him.’

  Wickham looked alarmed, but his face quickly resumed its complacent air.

  ‘Well, so what if he has? He is nothing to me now. If he tries to blacken my name by throwing up certain facts about my wild youth, he will find that no one believes him. The good people of Meryton have only to look at me to know that I am everything that is amiable. And as for my marriage, he cannot mention it since he knows nothing of it. So let him stay in the neighbourhood if he wishes. It is nothing to me. In fact, I am rather looking forward to seeing him again, now that I am almost as rich as he is.’

  Denny gave him a hard stare.

  ‘You seem to have forgotten something. How are you going to explain your sudden wealth if you do not reveal that you are married?’

  Wickham frowned, then his brow cleared.

  ‘Why, nothing easier. I will say that I inherited from an uncle on my mother’s side. Better yet, a great uncle that I did not even know I had. Since Darcy knew my father’s side of the family, rather than my mother’s side, he cannot disprove it, and why should he want to, after all? We were friends once, but we are nothing but acquaintances now.’

  ‘So you have forgiven him for depriving you of your living?’ asked Denny.

  ‘Of course,’ said Wickham.

  But in his heart of hearts, he knew he had not forgiven Darcy for anything.

  At that moment, Fitzwilliam Darcy was in the drawing-room at Netherfield, drumming his fingers on the mantelpiece. He was bored. He had spent an uneventful summer, enlivened only by a few surprise visits to his sister in Ramsgate. He smiled as he thought of her. His smile brought his handsome features to life. He was a tall man, well made and with a noble air. He loved Georgiana very much and he liked to give her pleasure . He had carefully planned her holiday at the seaside. If he had known that George Wickham planned to elope with his sister he would have been horrified, but fortunately for his peace of mind he did not know. Chance had intervened and Georgiana had spent a happy few weeks by the sea. She had spent her time sketching and playing the piano and engaging in other ladylike pursuits, and she had now returned to her establishment in London.

  Darcy’s smile faded. He saw the long winter stretching out in front of him and he did not know how he was going to bear the tedium. Everything bored him. Oh, to be sure, his boredom was relieved now and then by some unusual circumstance, such as his present visit to his friend Charles Bingley. But once the novelty had passed, then his spirits fell and he was blue devilled again.

  If only he could find something to interest him – or someone. But at the age of twenty-seven, everything was known to him, and it sometimes felt as if everyone was known to him as well. Not that he knew everyone personally, of course, but he knew their type.

  Take Bingley’s sisters, now, he thought. They were typical of their kind. Well educated and with handsome dowries, but with their roots in trade. They were impressed by him and everything he had to offer. Caroline was particularly impressed. So much so that she wanted to be the next Mrs Darcy. But it would take someone far more special than Caroline to tempt him.

  He sometimes wondered if he was too hard to please because he had never yet found any woman who interested him. He would have to marry eventually, but he had no wish to rush into matrimony. At least here, in Meryton, he would not be pestered by the local women setting their caps at him. They would not be so foolish as to think that Mr Darcy of Pemberley would be interested in them.

  ‘Are you ready, Darcy?’ asked Charles Bingley, coming into the room and rubbing his hands together in his good-natured way. ‘It’s time for us to be leaving. We don’t want to be late.’

  ‘On the contrary, brother,’ said Caroline Bingley in a droll voice, ‘that is exactly what we want to be. Fashionably late.’

  I must admit I will never understand that fashion,’ said Bingley with a pleasant smile. ‘It seems rude to me.’

  Caroline gave an affected laugh. ‘What will Mr Darcy think of you?’ she said, with an arch glance at Mr Darcy.

  ‘Oh, Darcy knows me,’ said Bingley. ‘Not a fashionable bone in my body.’

  ‘If we must, we must,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘Come, let us go.’

  Caroline yawned

  ‘I dare say it will be a dead bore,’ she remarked.

  ‘But at least you’ll have a chance to show off your new clothes to the yokels, eh?’ said her brother-in-law, Mr Hurst.

  Caroline looked displeased, and so did her sister, Louisa, for they did not like to be laughed at.

  ‘The carriage is at the door,’ said Mr Bingley.

  They put on their cloaks and then went out to the carriage. The night was cool, for autumn was setting in. The night was already dark but there was a full moon overhead to light the way.

  Mr Darcy followed the ladies into the carriage.

  Little did he know that the Meryton assembly was going to change his life.

  Elizabeth Bennet was getting ready for the assembly ball in her bedroom at Longbourn. She was a bright and lively young woman, twenty years of age, who lived with her parents and her four sisters in one of the best houses in the neighbourhood. Her father was a gentleman with an estate of two thousand pounds a year, but it was entailed on a cousin (the odious Mr Collins) and so the Miss Bennets had very little dowry. The eldest, Jane, was the beauty of the family, but she was not yet married. After Elizabeth came Mary, Kitty and Lydia. All of them were out, although Lydia was really too young and silly to be going into company. But she had pestered her mother so much that her mother had allowed her to enter society at the age of fifteen.

  Elizabeth and Jane were not bothered by their younger sisters as they prepared for the assembly, as they shared a bedroom and their sisters slept elsewhere.

  ‘I wonder if Mr Bingley will come to the assembly,’ said Jane, as she put the final touches to her hair. It was arranged in a bun, set high on the back of her head, and it was threaded with white ribbon to match her white gown.

  ‘Perhaps, or perhaps his sisters will keep him away,’ said Lizzy mischievously. She had a lively sense of humour and liked to laugh.

  ‘Lizzy!’ said Jane. ‘For shame! You do not know them. I am sure they are perfectly amiable.’

  ‘Perhaps. But I saw them in Meryton and they gave themselves airs. Mr Bingley did not give himself airs, though, when he came to return Papa’s call,’ said Elizabeth thoughtfully. ‘From what I could see, he appeared to be agreeable.’ Lizzy and her sisters had seen him from an upstairs window, and they had admired his blue coat.


  ‘I wonder if he likes dancing?’ said Jane.

  ‘We will soon find out,’ said Lizzy. ‘It is time for us to go. Will you just fasten my necklace, Jane?’ she asked.

  She turned round so that Jane could do so, then arranged the necklace so that it sat smoothly around her lovely neck. She patted her dark hair into place, arranging the curls that adorned her forehead and smoothing the rest of it back over the crown of her head, until her hand reached the bun that captured her shining hair.

  The two young ladies went downstairs.

  ‘Hill, Hill, where is my reticule?’ asked Mrs Bennet, who was in a nervous state, as always.

  ‘Here, ma’am,’ said Hill, the housekeeper.

  ‘I’m going to dance every dance,’ said Lydia, drawing herself up to her full height.

  Kitty agreed, and Mary said that she would rather read a book.

  ‘No, no, my dear, you must go to the assembly,’ said Mr Bennet.

  He was to stay at home and he did not want Mary to stay with him.

  And with this, the ladies went out to the carriage. It was not a very new equippage, and the horses were those that worked on the farm during the day, but nevertheless it was respectable. The country lanes were shrouded in darkness and the hedgerows were black shadows, but the full moon and the carriage lamps provided enough light for the coachman to see the way.

  Lydia and Kitty chattered and laughed all the way there, and Elizabeth was glad to climb out of the carriage when at last they reached the assembly rooms. She looked up at the building, with its white walls laced with black beams. It was an old building and very pretty. Light was spilling out of the windows, and the sound of music came from within.

  Once inside, the ladies changed their shoes, taking their dancing slippers out of small cloth bags which they carried for the purpose, and removing their cloaks, which they left in the ladies’ cloak room.

  Lizzy brushed a speck of fluff from Jane’s shoulder, and Jane fastened the button at the back of Lizzy’s dress, which had somehow come undone, and then they went in to the main room.

  It was already full.

  ‘Have you heard?’ asked Charlotte Lucas, coming forward to greet her two friends, Jane and Lizzy. ‘The Bingleys are to bring a large party of twelve ladies and seven gentlemen.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ exclaimed Lydia in horror. ‘Why must he bring so many ladies. Mama, it shouldn’t be allowed.’

  ‘Indeed it should not,’ said Mrs Bennet.

  She and Lady Lucas retired to a corner to bemoan the news.

  Elizabeth’s eyes scanned the room.

  ‘So the Netherfield part have not yet arrived?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ said Charlotte. ‘But we have a new gentleman in the neighbourhood, a Mr Wickham. He is staying with his friend, Mr Denny.’

  ‘That should please Lydia,’ said Lizzy in a droll voice. She heard Lydia’s noisy laugh and, looking round, saw her sister flirting with a handsome gentleman. He was above average height, with a good figure. He was bowing charmingly to Lydia.

  ‘It seems that Lydia has already found him,’ said Lizzy.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Charlotte. ‘Poor Mr Wickham.’

  Lizzy, whose eyes were on her sister, at that moment saw Mr Wickham straighten up from his bow and she caught his expression. She gave a gurgle of laughter.

  ‘I think Mr Wickham is equal to Lydia,’ she said.

  Charlotte looked at her curiously. ‘Lizzy, you like him, don’t you?’

  ‘I can hardly claim to like him when I don’t know him, but he looks to be a gentleman.’

  ‘You do like him, I can tell,’ said Charlotte teasingly. ‘Come, I will introduce you.’

  At that moment the door opened, and all eyes turned towards it, for walking into the hall were the Netherfield party. Mr Bingley was with his two sisters and his brother-in-law. And along with them was another man, who was tall, handsome and well made, with a proud face and a haughty bearing.

  At once the ripple of gossip went round the room.

  ‘Ten thousand a year . . . estate in Derbyshire . . . ’

  His eyes fell on Lizzy and he looked at her coldly, as if she was beneath his notice. Her spirit rose at that, and she returned his gaze until at last he looked away.

  ‘Magnificent,’ said George Wickham under his breath. He had been watching the scene from across the room and he felt the stirrings of admiration inside himself. ‘Who is she?’ he said, more to himself than anyone else.

  ‘Oh, that’s my sister, Lizzy,’ said Lydia.

  ‘Lizzy?’ he enquired.

  ‘Elizabeth,’ said Lydia. ‘I suppose I should say, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Do you dance, Mr Wickham?’ she asked, hanging on his arm.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. Adding under his breath, ‘But not with you.’

  Chapter Three

  The assembly room was full. The musicians were striking up the opening chords of a new dance and Elizabeth watched with beating heart as Mr Wickham made his way across the crowded room towards her. She felt breathless and she could feel that she was blushing. It made her feel awkward and she turned away so that he should not see. But when he did not join her, she at last looked up and saw that he had been waylaid by Sir William Lucas. She felt frustrated, because Sir William was introducing Charlotte to him. She could tell that Mr Wickham liked this new turn of events no more than she did but he could not do anything about it. After a slight hesitation he smiled politely and offered Charlotte his hand. Together they joined the dance.

  Elizabeth shook her head in vexation. She had been looking forward to dancing with Mr Wickham. She was sure he would dance well and she loved to dance.

  Even worse, she did not have a partner and so she was forced to sit at the side of the room. Gentlemen were in short supply, and she was not the only young lady to be left without a partner.

  She amused herself by watching her sister, Jane, dancing with Mr Bingley. They made a handsome couple and Lizzy could see that Jane was entranced by Mr Bingley, just as he was entranced by her.

  What a happy outcome it would be if they married, she thought.

  Her gaze moved on to Charlotte and Mr Wickham. They did not seem to be getting on so well. Their conversation had ended and they danced without speaking.

  The dance ended and once again Elizabeth felt her heart beat faster. Mr Wickham was escorting Charlotte back to her parents but he had glanced in her direction and his one glance told her all she needed to know: He was going to ask her to dance.

  She played with her fan, not wanting to watch Mr Wickham as he walked across the room towards her.

  Her attention was caught by a mention of her name and to her surprise she found that Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy were talking about her. Mr Bingley was telling Mr Darcy he should not stand about in such a stupid manner, but should dance.

  Mr Bingley went up in Elizabeth’s estimation. It was rude of Mr Darcy to stand about instead of dancing, particularly when their were ladies sitting down. Not that she wished to dance with him. He was surveying the room as if he was better than everyone else there.

  It soon became clear that Elizabeth was right in thinking this, for Mr Bingley was trying to persuade his friend to dance with her. She was embarrassed. She had no wish to beg for a partner. Besides, Mr Wickham was threading his way through the crowd and she very much wanted to dance with him. There was something open and good-humoured about his countenance and there was no denying he was handsome.

  Mr Darcy’s reply caught her ears: ‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’

  He said it as if he were the King of England and she were a peasant! At first she was affronted, but this quickly gave way to amusement as she realised how ridiculous Mr Darcy was. Elizabeth loved to laugh!

  A voice at her elbow recalled her straying thoughts.

  ‘Something has amused you?’ came a charming gentleman’s voice.

  Looking up, she saw Mr Wickham.

  She smiled.

  ‘Will you dance
with me? I am eager to hear what it is that has amused you, and made your eyes sparkle.’

  The compliment was gracefully given and Elizabeth felt a thrill of pleasure. Mr Wickham was the most attractive man in the room – although, she was forced to admit, Mr Darcy was very attractive, also. But he was also proud and arrogant, whereas Mr Wickham was charming.

  She accepted his hand and the two of them went on to the floor. There was a buzz of conversation as they were noticed, and Elizabeth realised they had become the centre of attention.

  ‘We seem to have caused something of a stir,’ said Mr Wickham, bowing over her hand.

  Elizabeth curtseyed.

  ‘This is a small town, Mr Wickham, there is not very much to talk about. I am afraid you must accustom yourself to being spoken of.’

  ‘If it is the price I pay for dancing with you, Miss Elizabeth, then it is something I cannot complain of,’ he said.

  His eyes crinkled at the corners as he said it and Elizabeth was very well pleased with her partner.

  The music began. Mr Wickham danced well. He was precise in his movements and Lizzy felt they were well matched in the dance. Their bodies echoed each other perfectly, moving in time together and complementing each other’s elegance.

  The other dancers fell back a little to give them more space. As they did so, Elizabeth noticed Mr Darcy watching her. His expression was a curious one. He looked angry and disdainful, but there was something else there she could not quite catch. It was a look of desire. The thought perturbed her but it aroused in her a similar feeling, which she quickly fought down. He was abominable and absurd. She had no wish for his attention and she wished he would turn his disdainful eyes on someone else.

  ‘Mr Darcy seems very interested in you,’ said Mr Wickham, breaking into her thoughts.

  ‘Yes, to criticise me,’ said Elizabeth with a rueful smile.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Mr Wickham with a frown.

  ‘He is a conceited monster,’ said Lizzy, her cheeks burning as she remembered the conversation she had overheard.

  ‘Has he upset you?’ asked Mr Wickham. ‘If so, it was unforgivable of him.’