The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Victoria Kincaid

  She was surprised that her father was still with them in the drawing room; most days after luncheon he had already retreated to the library. Why had he had decided to stay?

  Her consternation increased when her father addressed Darcy, “Mr. Darcy, I did not realize until recently that you had encountered Lizzy in Paris.” A careful glance at her father’s face suggested to Elizabeth that he had a deeper purpose behind seemingly casual questions.

  Darcy inclined his head. “I did have that pleasure. We met quite by chance at a ball.”

  Mr. Bennet turned his attention to his second daughter. “Well, I realized that we have heard very little of your trip to France and your daring escape,” her father said genially, but she sensed the hint of steel in his tone.

  “I have hardly had an opportunity to discuss it,” Elizabeth responded. “The whole household has been in a bit of an uproar since I returned.” Although Darcy and Bingley knew of Lydia’s situation, she felt it would be indelicate to refer to it in front of her father.

  “The only news we had of the Gardiners was that you had to leave in a hurry without their company and that you were detained for a time at the home of a friend because of an illness. There must be more to the story than that.” He was regarding her sharply. Elizabeth felt a flutter of panic; this was neither the time nor the place she would have selected to share these facts with her father.

  “I shall tell you another time,” she demurred. “I do not wish to bore everyone with such details.”

  “Come, come,” her father smiled. “Do tell. I daresay we could all do with a little diversion.” Elizabeth wondered if he suspected Darcy’s role in her misadventures. Her conversation with him the previous day must have piqued his curiosity, but she was uncomfortably aware that it would be difficult to relate the story without giving the impression that Darcy had compromised her reputation.

  “Yes, Lizzy, tell us,” Jane said quite innocently. “I would like to hear more of your travels. I am certain they were very interesting.”

  Elizabeth realized she could not avoid telling the tale and rapidly reviewed which portions she could relate and which she must omit. Her eyes darted to Darcy and he shrugged slightly as if to say, “Might as well.”

  “How did you escape the city?” Her father’s tone was casual, but his eyes were unusually intent. “Did Mrs. Radnor arrange for transportation?”

  “Well…she attempted it, but few carriages were available. Everyone was trying to leave Paris at the same time. Nothing was available for hire,” Elizabeth admitted, knowing what was coming next.

  “So how did you leave?” Her father seemed a little irritated at having to drag the story out of her.

  “Mr. Darcy was kind enough to hire a carriage and offer me transportation.” Elizabeth tried to keep her voice nonchalant, but even Bingley’s eyebrows raised at this information.

  “Mr. Darcy!” Her father’s eyes swung to Darcy. “Did Mrs. Radnor accompany you?”

  “No,” Elizabeth in a neutral tone. “She sent a maid to accompany me, but Mr. Darcy could only hire a curricle, so we did not have space for the maid and sent her back to Radnor House.” She hoped that their attempt to accommodate a chaperone would mitigate some of her father’s anger.

  “So you and Mr. Darcy left Paris together? In a curricle?” Her father’s voice was rising and Elizabeth knew he was struggling to stay calm.

  “Yes, but when I fell ill, it was apparent that I could not travel all the way to Calais, so Mr. Darcy took me to the house of a friend of his: Mr. Whitmore.” She found herself staring at her hands because she did not want to meet her father’s gaze, but the moment she realized this, she lifted her head, reminding herself that they had done nothing wrong. Their behavior had been unconventional, perhaps, but not wrong.

  “Whitmore is a friend of mine from Oxford,” Darcy interjected for the first time in the exchange. “He took orders soon after we graduated, but he has since moved to France to be with his wife.” Her father seemed a little mollified at the thought that Elizabeth had been staying at the home of a married clergyman.

  “Mr. Whitmore and his wife took very good care of me, Papa,” Elizabeth continued, seeing this as an opportunity to demonstrate Darcy’s good judgment in caring for her. “They made sure I had everything I needed. And so did Mr. Darcy. ”

  “And what did Mr. Darcy do for you, pray tell?” Her father’s eyes flashed with anger again. We did nothing wrong, Elizabeth reminded herself. However, she felt guilty about what she was not telling her father and he probably sensed she was holding something back. She felt her face turn red. I probably look extremely guilty.

  “He found a doctor, gave me medicine, got me food….” Belatedly Elizabeth realized how these actions could be misinterpreted.

  “He was in your room?” Her father said sharply. Bingley and Jane had identical expressions of shock on their faces.

  “I was ill! He was helping to take care of me…with the maids and Mrs. Whitmore…” She stopped; if she protested too much, her father might think they were concealing something.

  “Why was I not informed of this situation?”

  “He wrote to the Gardiners and kept them informed. They did not pass the details along to you because they did not want to distress you about a situation you could do nothing to change.” Elizabeth spared a look for Darcy; she was mortified about her father’s behavior – about what he was implying. Darcy was sitting very still with little expression on his face, a pose she now recognized as betraying his anger.

  “How dare they decide—!” Her father almost shouted. Jane and Bingley appeared to wish they were anywhere else, but did not dare to leave.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, trying to quell her anger with her father. “It was in the midst of the distress about Lydia. They did not want to worry you about another daughter. Mr. Darcy took very good care of me—”

  “I am certain he did!” Sarcasm laced his words.

  “I was very ill! Nothing improper took place.” Her father launched himself from his chair and was pacing the room, his face redder than she had ever seen it. “Our situation was quite perilous; surely the ordinary rules of propriety do not apply. If Mr. Darcy had not been willing to take me from Paris without a chaperone I might never have left.” Her father’s unreasonable anger was raising her own ire. A glance over at Darcy revealed that he, too, was close to the breaking point.

  “Why did you conceal all of this from me? I believed Mrs. Radnor escorted you and a friend of hers cared for you! You and the Gardiners deliberately deceived me!” Elizabeth thought wryly they were lucky he did not know what else they were concealing.

  “Mr. Bennet!” Darcy stood and towered imposingly over her father. “Elizabeth will not tell you this, sir, but she almost died in France! Her fever was so high and her breathing was so labored, there were several days when the doctor did not think she would recover. Surely you have noticed the cough that still lingers and how easily she is fatigued?” Darcy’s voice had been rising. He swallowed and lowered it to a more socially acceptable level, but the intensity of his sentiments kept everyone’s attention focused on him.

  “She also has been protecting you from the knowledge of how we were almost killed by brigands in Paris and nearly arrested in Dunkirk! She knew you were anxious about being unable to protect her in France and sought to spare you the guilt. But, you are demonstrating that she need not have bothered. You are not concerned about her well-being, only that she did not commit the smallest appearance of impropriety! You should be grateful you still have a daughter whose reputation you can worry about!”

  Mr. Bennet’s face reflected outrage at the rebuke. Jane and Bingley were staring in amazement at Darcy, apparently attempting to assimilate this new information. Darcy turned on his heel and strode out of the drawing room. Every eye turned to Elizabeth.

  Then her father’s gaze returned to the door through which Darcy had exited and she knew he was trying to bring his anger under control. Fin
ally he glanced back at her. “Lizzy, are these things true?” he asked in a small voice.

  “Yes, Papa.” She said simply. Then she stood and followed Darcy.

  As Elizabeth suspected, Darcy had exited the house and was standing outside the front door. When she came out, he walked over to her, but did not dare to even take her hand for fear that they were observed through the windows.

  “I am sorry I lost my temper.” He said softly. His eyes were full of anxiety as he gazed steadily into hers. Does he truly believe I would condemn him for responding to such provocation? She reminded herself that their marriage was still new and he was often more unsure of himself than he appeared.

  “Do not apologize. Your vexation was completely understandable given what my father was implying about your character.” After glancing back at the house to see if they were observed, she daringly brushed his hand with her fingertips. The effect was electric; Darcy shivered slightly.

  “I also apologize that my actions gave him cause for suspicion in the first place,” Darcy glanced away from her face as if unable to meet her eyes. “I should have put more effort into locating a proper chaperone. In the moment, the thought of spending time alone with you was very appealing, but I should have realized it would lead to such difficulties. In my defense I can only say that I apparently do not possess much self-control when it comes to you.”

  She laughed a little. “Then it is fortunate indeed that we are married.”

  “Not that it does us a lot of good,” he growled.

  “No,” she sighed with regret, focusing on his thick dark hair and thinking how it would feel if she could run her fingers through it. “But William, you take too much on yourself. I decided to leave with you. It was not your doing alone. I do not, for one moment, regret that decision, despite what my father thinks.” This declaration won a warm smile and an expression of relief from Darcy. She sighed. “I just wish we could reassure him that your intentions are honorable, but it would be a horrible lie to say we are engaged.”

  Darcy nodded regretfully. “Perhaps we should simply tell your father the truth. He would be angry, but my intentions would be unexceptionable.” He finally succumbed to the temptation of taking her hand in his.

  Elizabeth shook her head emphatically. “Our deception has angered him, now is not the time to relate additional deceit. That would be a very difficult beginning to your relationship with him.”

  “More difficult than it is now?” Darcy inquired with a raised eyebrow.

  “We should give him time to calm himself – and to know you further.”

  “As you wish.” Darcy fell silent for a moment, then spoke reluctantly. “I should leave so you may speak to your father in private. Please tell Bingley I will see him back at Netherfield.”

  “Very well.” She was loath to have him leave, but the situation was fraught with difficulties. Her father was probably furious that she was outside speaking with Darcy instead of inside explaining herself to him.

  Despite her concerns about her father, she felt the effects of Darcy’s nearness. He was so tantalizingly close, but she could not act on her impulses. Perhaps it would be best to remove the temptation of his presence.

  “Tell me, are you still in the habit of taking early morning strolls?” he asked, regarding her from the corner of his eye.

  “Yes, I often walk towards Oakham Mount. But Mr. Darcy, surely you are not suggesting an assignation! That would be highly improper!” She replied archly, but kept her voice low.

  He leaned over and whispered teasingly in her ear. “I can think of few things that are more proper, except, perhaps, having you in my bedchamber, wife.” His hand was caressing hers in a sensuous way, sending shocks of energy throughout her body.

  “I do take my wifely obligations seriously.” She smiled flirtatiously.

  “Your dedication to your duty is one of the things I love about you.” She laughed and he kissed her hand, making warmth spread throughout her body. As she smiled, she willed her eyes to demonstrate all of the passion she could not express any other way. “Elizabeth!” he said fervently, “You have no idea what effect such a look has on me. I am quite undone…but I should depart before I do something your father would find objectionable. Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.”

  She walked him over to his horse and waited while he mounted, not returning to the house until he had disappeared from sight.

  Elizabeth knew her father would not let the matter rest, so she was not surprised when he summoned her to his library that evening. He started without any preamble. “I am sorry I suggested that anything improper occurred between you and Mr. Darcy, but you have to admit the circumstances certainly could be misconstrued. I shudder to think what would happen if the gossips of Meryton heard even a hint of that story, but your Mr. Darcy does not seem likely to spread rumors. However, I am very disappointed that you chose to conceal the truth from me.”

  “I am sorry, Papa. I was concerned how you would react given Lydia’s situation.” She strove to sound more contrite than she actually felt. “I did not wish to cause you additional vexation.”

  Her father scrutinized her face. “Is there anything else about your visit to France you would like to share with me?” Undoubtedly he hoped she would explain her relationship with Darcy.

  She considered her response before she spoke. “I would be happy to share the details of my adventures, but I assure you that Mr. Darcy was a perfect gentleman.”

  Her father gazed at her steadily for a moment before speaking again. “I know that he is a gentleman and that you are capable of defending your own honor,” he said. “But remember: Mr. Collins informed us that Mr. Darcy is engaged to his cousin. You cannot hold any hopes that he might propose to you.”

  Elizabeth fought the desire to laugh at the idea that Darcy might never wish to marry her. “He is not engaged to his cousin.”

  “Did he tell you that?” Mr. Bennet’s tone was sharp and suspicious.

  “Yes, but—”

  Her father was shaking his head rather emphatically. “He could be denying a previous betrothal merely to encourage you to believe his intentions are honorable.” His index finger stabbed into his desk for emphasis.

  Anger surged through her. “He would not do that!”

  Irritation colored her father’s tone as well. “You do not know what men are capable of. See how we were deceived by Wickham!”

  “Mr. Darcy is not like Wickham!” She insisted.

  “If he cares for you, why has he not requested my permission to court you or asked for your hand? And do not tell me there is nothing between you! Your mother may be blind to it, but I am not!” Her father stood abruptly and spread his hands on the desk. “Mr. Darcy may have some fondness for you, but he has not acted on it. Either he thinks you are beneath him or his intentions are less than admirable.”

  “He is not—”

  “Lizzy,” her father sounded suddenly tired. He sank back into his chair and rubbed his face. “I have heard of high-born gentlemen who impose themselves on women, compromising their reputations so thoroughly that they have no choice than to become the man’s mistress.”

  Indignation coursed through her once again. “Mr. Darcy would never do such a thing!” Her father’s face held infuriating compassion at her ignorance. “I know his intentions toward me are honorable!”

  “Then why has he not declared himself? He has had ample opportunity by this time.” Her father looked at her sadly. “I have learned my lesson. We cannot trust that any man’s intentions are proper. I failed to protect Lydia, but I will not make such an error again.”

  “He had ample opportunity to compromise my reputation in France and did not take it!” Elizabeth cried, feeling the injustice of the situation.

  Her father rubbed his hands together, trying to calm himself. Then he turned and poured himself a brandy before responding. “I am pleased you have such faith in him. I do not know the whole truth of what occurred in France, but I suspect you
are concealing something from me.” Elizabeth said nothing in response. “I hope you know you can always turn to me if you find yourself in distress of any sort.”

  The pain and fear in her father’s voice made her wish to confide the truth right then. But she knew she could not do so without talking to Darcy, so she merely said, “I am not at all distressed for myself. I am perfectly content with my situation.” Far from reassured, her father merely shook his head sadly at this declaration. “I am only concerned about Lydia.”

  Her father sighed and stared at his brandy glass. “As are we all,” he said. “The poor, foolish girl.”

  Elizabeth made a move to depart, but her father stayed her with a hand. “You and Mr. Darcy have concealed the impropriety of your travels in France admirably, but I hope I hardly need to warn you that you must be properly chaperoned here in Hertfordshire.”

  She murmured, “Of course,” and walked toward the door, thinking that the definition of “proper” chaperonage was flexible given the circumstances.

  Before she exited, her father called to her, “And, Lizzy, I had not realized how ill you were in France. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you are still with us.” Tears sparkling in his eyes. “And I intend to thank Mr. Darcy for taking such excellent care of you the next time I lay eyes on him.”

  Elizabeth smiled and nodded to her father, then left the room.

  As Elizabeth set out for her walk the following morning she thought guiltily that she was violating the spirit, if not the letter, of her promise to her father. She would be with Darcy without a chaperone, but, because they were married, they would not truly require one.

  The summer days had been warm lately, but the early mornings were still cool. Mist was rising from the fields as the first rays of early morning light shone on the plants. Elizabeth walked more briskly that usual, excited at the prospect of being with Darcy alone.