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

by Victoria Kincaid

  “Are you truly a friend to the whole family or are you only ‘friendly’ with Elizabeth?” Wickham asked slyly.

  Darcy had hoped that word of his relationship with Elizabeth would not reach Wickham’s ear, but was not surprised that the other man had learned it somehow. “That is not your business.” Darcy tried not to allow his dismay to show on his face. “Returning to the topic of—”

  Wickham interrupted. “I know you have your hooks in her. I suppose should not be surprised.” Wickham idly picked up a glass paperweight off the desk and gazed absently at it. “You’ve always wanted what’s mine….”

  “She is not yours!” The explosive exclamation was out before Darcy could censor it. Damn, I am permitting Wickham goad me already! Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his anger.

  Wickham leaned forward in his chair, grinning. “She fancied me and you knew it. So you swooped in and took her. I should be very angry at you.”

  “Elizabeth never cared about you!” Darcy snarled.

  Wickham shrugged. “Believe that if you want. But the truth is she longed for my company. She was searching for me at the Netherfield ball – she asked my friends for my whereabouts. She wanted me. And, if I had any money she would be in my bed, not yours.”

  “That is not true. Elizabeth is not mercenary!” Darcy kept his voice low, but he did rise out of his chair, calling on every shred of his self-control to avoid punching Wickham in his smug face.

  “Elizabeth is it?” Wickham asked silkily, brushing a speck of dirt from his jacket sleeve. Inwardly Darcy cursed himself for the slip. “How much is she costing you? Or did you give her carte blanche?”

  Darcy wanted to strangle Wickham for implying that Elizabeth was his mistress. He could not stop his voice from rising. “Out, Wickham! Leave before I have you thrown out.”

  Wickham made no move to depart, continuing to speak as if he had not heard. “Not that I blame you. She is a toothsome morsel. I wouldn’t mind getting my hand on that….” He gestured obscenely with his hands.

  Darcy saw red and his hands clenched into fists, but he maintained his self-control – just barely. “If I were you, I would be wary of angering the man whose good opinion stands between you and your fortune,” he growled.

  Wickham met his eyes as Darcy leaned menacingly across the desk. His tone was more mocking. “I wager Elizabeth never told you that she kissed me.”

  “You are lying,” Darcy said quickly.

  “So she did not mention it! Not surprising. It was in the garden at Longbourn just before she departed for Kent. Quite a good kiss, for all that she said it was her first. Very passionate. It was her idea too. She wanted me to have something to remember her by while she was gone. But when she returned from Kent, you had twisted her opinion of me and she would speak to me, but I could still see the desire in her eyes. I am certain it is still there.”

  Suddenly Darcy was standing on the other side of the desk. “She never wanted you!” He hit Wickham square on the jaw.

  Wickham staggered a little, but did not fall. As he cradled his jaw in his hand, he smiled at Darcy’s anger. “It’s amazing how ten thousand a year increases a man’s attractiveness. But you’ll start to bore her quickly enough.”

  Darcy laughed derisively. “And you believe she would prefer the man who ruined her sister?”

  With a shrug and a grin Wickham waved away this concern. “Oh, she would be angry with me at first, but she wouldn’t stay that way for long.”

  “You delude yourself,” Darcy ground out, but the other man merely laughed.

  Darcy gritted his teeth, restraining his rage with difficulty and reminding himself that it would not serve his purposes to strike Wickham again. Stay in control! He told himself. Do not let Wickham get the better of you! Moderately more contained, Darcy stepped behind his desk and rang for a footman.

  “You are leaving, Wickham. My offer stands at ten thousand. I expect to hear from you in two days’ time or I will seek out someone else who will be happy to take the money – and Lydia.” Darcy’s voice was harsh from the effort of controlling himself.

  “Oh, I am sure you will pay more before we’re done. Far more.” Wickham still fingered his jaw, but had recovered his smirk.

  Thomas appeared, looking at Darcy inquiringly. “Take out the rubbish,” Darcy said tersely, gesturing at Wickham before taking up his quill to resume his work.

  Once the two men were gone, Darcy set it down again. Was it true that Elizabeth had once preferred Wickham? He knew she had been friendly with the erstwhile militia officer – that was how Wickham had managed to feed her so many lies—but had she truly been seeking Wickham at the Netherfield ball? Had she actually kissed him in the garden at Longbourn?

  Clearly she had severed ties with Wickham after her visit to Kent, once she understood his real character. But was she still attracted to him? Many women were, he knew, drawn to men with a dash of wickedness – even men they knew they should not like. There certainly were plenty of men infatuated with women who they knew were not good for them.

  Darcy shook his head, crossing to the window, wishing he could go for a ride to clear his head. This is Elizabeth, he reminded himself sternly. She loves me! If she only wanted my money, she would have accepted my proposal at Hunsford. But, had she rejected him in part because she harbored affection for Wickham? After all, at that point she had not known of the militia officer’s true wickedness.

  He thought about their travels in France. No, such love was not possible to counterfeit. Even if she once entertained an attachment to Wickham, she married me. But, he visualized Elizabeth kissing Wickham. He could picture the garden, imagining what she was wearing and how the garden would appear at that time of year, seeing Elizabeth giving Wickham a pert smile – their lips meeting. He could not shake the image from his mind.

  Darcy had insisted that Elizabeth use the carriage rather than walk to visit the Gardiners. Although that area of London was quite safe, Darcy worried that it would not be difficult for a lone miscreant to attempt to hurt her. Elizabeth had sighed and agreed although she thought the precaution quite unnecessary.

  After a two-hour visit with her relatives, she had returned to Darcy House and wanted to see her husband. She had alighted from the coach and was at the bottom of the steps before she realized who was emerging from the front door. Wickham was next to her on the bottom step before she could push past him into the house. “My dear Miss Bennet! What a pleasure to see you again!” He made a great show of gallantry and kissed her hand before she could react; however, his smile was set in a leer that belied any gentlemanly manners.

  “The pleasure is all yours, Mr. Wickham,” she said icily.

  “Now we shall not quarrel, shall we?” He put on an air of wounded innocence that made her want to laugh. “We were always friends.”

  Then she did laugh. “A strange idea of friendship you have! Seducing my sister and ruining her reputation. What could possibly induce me to continue harboring friendly sentiments for such a man?”

  Wickham smiled insolently. “You are one to speak! Is your reputation then so pristine, Miss Bennet?” The way he said her name was almost an insult, causing her to gasp at his audacity. He leaned closer to her, “I know what you and Darcy are about. You didn’t do so badly for yourself after all, did you?”

  The man’s impudence knew no bounds! “You know nothing of what you are talking about! I am a guest of Miss Darcy’s.” She kept her voice low to preserve the privacy of their conversation. “Mr. Darcy is the most moral, upstanding—”

  Wickham laughed knowingly at her. “Has he promised marriage, then? He will not follow through, you know. The damned Darcy pride. Your family is not nearly exalted enough for him.”

  For a moment Elizabeth wanted to fling the fact of their marriage in Wickham’s face just to see his reaction, but she restrained herself; she did not need to give the man more leverage over Darcy than he already had. “He is, in every way, a better man than you. You are not
fit to lick his boots!” She mounted the stairs hurriedly and went into the house before Wickham could respond. Not at all distraught at the conversation, he sauntered away, beginning to whistle cheerfully as he made his way down the street.

  Upstairs in Darcy House, Darcy stepped away from the window. Viewing the encounter between Wickham and Elizabeth had done nothing to quell his sense of disquiet. For much of the conversation Darcy had been unable to see her expression because her bonnet hid her face, but the meeting seemed friendlier than he would have anticipated. At one point, she had tilted her head up and he noticed that Wickham had made her laugh – followed by a whisper in her ear. Wickham also appeared quite pleased with how the meeting had gone.

  Stop your preoccupation with Wickham’s insinuations! He told himself. She married you. She loves you. But what if she really had kissed Wickham? And what had he whispered to her? These doubts would not release their hold on him. Before he knew what he was doing, his feet were carrying him away from the study, but he could not escape his thoughts.

  Darcy arrived at luncheon strained and unhappy. Elizabeth noticed at once and put her arms around him for a comforting kiss that did serve to soothe some of his anxiety. Although she volunteered that she had seen Wickham as he was leaving, she said nothing about their conversation except that it was unpleasant. Afraid he might hear evasion in her voice, Darcy did not press her for details.

  Elizabeth attributed his foul mood to Wickham’s visit, of which Darcy had related little – only that he was attempting to convince the other man to marry Lydia and that Wickham was demanding more money. She had long since resigned herself to the idea that nothing except cash would induce Wickham to the altar. When Darcy explained that Wickham would return in two days to give his response, Elizabeth merely sighed and said, “Poor Lydia.”

  Try as he might, Darcy could discern no traces of affection, or even tolerance, for Wickham. By the end of the meal, his mood had improved considerably. After all, why should she bear affection for the man who had ruined her sister? The idea was absurd!

  Georgiana returned from shopping just as Darcy and Elizabeth were finishing their luncheon. Darcy said a silent prayer of thanks that she had not been home when Wickham was there. Elizabeth suggested that Georgiana play her new Mozart piece for them in the drawing room. Georgiana had been practicing it diligently, but was still anxious about performing before others. Elizabeth suggested that they would act as her audience so she could rehearse her performance, and Georgiana eagerly complied.

  As Darcy and Elizabeth were sitting on a settee, holding hands, the afternoon sun slanted through the windows and music filled the room. Darcy mused that this was the sort of future he had envisioned with Elizabeth, enjoying her company in the privacy of their home. He thought about all the estate work he should be addressing in his study, but it was just too pleasant to bask in their domestic peace. After the agitation occasioned by Wickham’s visit, the reassurance of Elizabeth’s presence was a balm to his soul.

  It was shattered by the sound of a woman bellowing in the hallway. “I will show myself in! I know the way.”

  Georgiana’s playing faltered to a halt. Darcy closed his eyes briefly in dismay. He recognized the voice: Lady Catherine de Bourgh. First Wickham, then Aunt Catherine. What a difficult day it was turning out to be. All that was necessary was a visit from Caroline Bingley to make his joy complete.

  Lady Catherine de Bourgh burst into the room like an avenging angel, her long cape flapping behind her. She halted just inside the doorway, surveying the room and when her eyes rested on Elizabeth, she regarded her like a spider she had found on her pillow. Elizabeth returned her gaze unflinchingly, stoking Darcy’s pride that she remained unbowed.

  Lady Catherine strode across the room and settled herself imperiously in a brocaded chair. Darcy’s beleaguered footman followed behind her. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh, sir.”

  “Thank you, Copley.” Darcy replied. “I believe some tea would be in order.” Copley left without another word.

  There was a long pause as Darcy waited for his aunt to explain her visit, but she seemed content to sit and glare haughtily. After a moment he sighed. He was fairly certain he knew the answer to his question, but he asked it anyway. “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure, Aunt Catherine?”

  “Do not pretend ignorance with me,” she barked. “You can be at no loss to understand the purpose of my journey.”

  At this sign that it would be a contentious meeting, Georgiana excused herself and fled the room. Darcy wished he could do likewise, as it promised to be an unpleasant scene.

  “I am completely at a loss,” he said stonily. She would receive no assistance with this conversation.

  “A report of an alarming nature reached me yesterday—”

  Darcy wondered who had betrayed him to his aunt. It was almost certainly someone who did not know the whole story. “From whom?”

  “That is not pertinent,” she said dismissively. “I instantly resolved on setting off for London to have this rumor contradicted. I was told that you had made an offer of marriage to that woman.” She pointed a bony finger peremptorily at Elizabeth.

  “Why should that alarm you?” Darcy wished that he could tell his aunt the real truth and have done with it. Then she would return to Kent in high dudgeon and they would be rid of her; instead, he would have to endure her attempts to dissuade him from committing an act he had already committed.

  “Why?” She echoed in amazement, straightening herself in her chair. “Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted? Is such a girl to be your wife?”

  As he prepared a heated response he noticed Elizabeth shifting on the settee. “Mr. Darcy is a gentleman. I am a gentleman’s daughter. So far we are equal.” Elizabeth’s eyes blazed with anger. Irrelevantly, Darcy noticed how becomingly her eyes flashed when she was furious – as long as she was not angry with him.

  “But who was your mother? Who are your uncles and aunts? It is not to be borne!” Lady Catherine exclaimed.

  “If your nephew does not object to them, they can be nothing to you,” Elizabeth replied with some warmth.

  Abandoning Elizabeth as a lost cause, Lady Catherine rounded on Darcy. “What of the obligations owed to our family? What of your engagement to Anne?”

  “Neither Anne nor I wish to marry. You know that well enough.” He wondered how often he had said those words to his aunt. Apparently he must be married before she would believe him.

  “It was the fondest wish of your mother.” She flung out this declaration as if it decided the argument.

  “Be that as it may, I am my own man and neither you nor my mother may choose a wife for me.” Although Darcy was flushed with anger at his aunt’s manner, he was managing to maintain a measure of rationality in the conversation; however, he did not know how long he would be able to maintain his self-control. It had been a trying day.

  Lady Catherine drew herself up to her full height and glowered at Elizabeth. “Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?”

  It was hard to avoid a giving an answer to such a direct question. “I am not,” Elizabeth finally admitted, giving Darcy an ironic smile. His aunt might experience relief at this answer, but only because she had failed to ask the correct question.

  Lady Catherine glared at Darcy triumphantly. He could not bear to see her smug expression, nor could he allow her to leave believing she had cowed them into submission. “I would not have you labor under a misapprehension. Although we are not formally engaged, Elizabeth will be part of our family. You should accustom yourself to that notion.”

  Lady Catherine gasped. “Her arts and allurements have made you forget what you owe to yourself and your family!” She gestured to Elizabeth dismissively. “Such fortune hunters can be quite sly in creating a moment of infatuation—”

  A wave of fury enveloped Darcy and he launched himself off the settee. “Elizabeth is not a fortune hunter!” He yelled, momentarily stunning his aunt with the vehe
mence of this retort. He continued in a more conversational, but still forceful, tone of voice. “If she was merely seeking my fortune, she would have accepted my offer the first time I proposed. I am fortunate indeed that she has granted me another opportunity to change her mind.” He gazed at Elizabeth and saw gratitude in her eyes at this defense.

  “She refused you?” His aunt’s tone was colored by disbelief.

  “Yes, at Hunsford, in April.” Darcy felt some of his anger drain away as he saw a corner of Elizabeth’s mouth quirk up at the memory.

  “At Hunsford?” Lady Catherine’s voice was going shrill as she turned to Elizabeth. “Is this your gratitude for my attentions to you last spring? She glared at Darcy. “You have conspired under my roof with this – this – chit!”

  Darcy had had enough. Closing the gap between them, he towered over his aunt. “You have insulted me and Miss Bennet quite sufficiently, Madam. I must ask that you depart!”

  Lady Catherine turned unexpectedly conciliatory. “Very well. However, this discussion is not finished, Fitzwilliam. Have someone show me to my room. It was a long and wearying trip.”

  Elizabeth regarded Darcy with alarm. The idea of Aunt Catherine at Darcy House also caused him consternation. Fortunately, he had no hesitation in exerting his influence as master of the house.

  “You are not staying here.” His tone was firm, though less angry

  “What? Turned away from Darcy House?” Lady Catherine appeared truly shocked. “You are lost to all reason. That girl—”

  “Elizabeth has behaved like a perfect lady,” Darcy said. “Your own actions have brought this upon your head. You cannot be trusted to be ladylike – or even civil – to her. I will not request that she depart, so you must be the one to stay elsewhere. I daresay my Uncle Fitzwilliam has some guest chambers available.”

  “But, I always stay at Darcy House when I am in town.” Her voice had grown bewildered at this unforeseen turn of events.

  “You will not be a guest under my roof until you can treat Elizabeth with civility.” Darcy said coldly as he rang for the footman. “Copley, show Lady Catherine out.”