An Unnatural Inheritance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Page 2
Elizabeth was happy to ignore the party entirely, but her neighbor Sir William Lucas appeared to have other ideas, and at length she found herself quite unwillingly pulled into a discussion with her neighbor and the insufferable Mr. Bingley. As Sir William attempted to make the introduction, a loud squeal went up from the far end of the room, causing all three in the party to turn their heads. Mrs. Bennet stood in the corner with a flame-red Jane, and to Elizabeth’s horror, her mother was grasping Mr. Darcy’s hand and gesturing wildly at Jane. The ladies — who Elizabeth had discovered where Miss Caroline Bingley and her sister, Mrs. Louisa Hurst — looked on in open contempt. The punch glass that Mrs. Bennet was holding swayed dangerously as Mrs. Bennet spoke, and small drops of liquid were flying out and hitting the front of Mr. Darcy’s jacket.
Sir William, who was normally blind to her mother’s antics, excused himself quickly and hurried to the scene, leaving Elizabeth alone with the silent Mr. Bingley. She looked up at him — for he was frustratingly tall — and smiled slightly.
“Is there nothing like a country dance to bring out the energy in each of us?” she asked the gentleman somewhat apologetically, attempting to sooth over the embarrassment that her mother had caused. He didn’t appear to catch the hint.
“I suppose,” he said curtly. Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him.
“And how are you liking Hertfordshire, sir?” she responded, attempting to pull him into some kind of discussion.
“I could not tell you, I have only arrived today.”
Elizabeth stared at him, waiting for the rest of his comment, but it never arrived.
“Your friend appears to be enjoying himself greatly,” she offered. Mr. Bingley narrowed his eyes at her slightly, the first time he had looked at her since beginning the forced, awkward conversation.
“It would appear so.”
“The musicians are quite fine tonight, are they not? I have rarely heard them play so well as they do now,” Elizabeth offered one more time. Mr. Bingley simply nodded, and did not even respond. He looked exceedingly uncomfortable, and clearly wished to be anywhere but there. Elizabeth’s smile slipped slightly as her temper flared.
“I have commented on the musicians and the dance, and now I believe it is your turn to make a comment regarding the size of the room or the number of couples, sir. But perhaps you prefer silence to rule the day at social gatherings. Pray tell me, Mr. Bingley, what has driven you to let a house in Hertfordshire, for it does not appear to be the allure of fine company.”
Elizabeth fixed the gentleman with her steely gaze, but the sly smile dropped from her face slightly as Mr. Bingley stared at her in a mixture of confusion and disdain.
“I believe you are mistaken, madam,” he said at last, before bowing stiffly and making his way through the crowd. Elizabeth hardly had time to wonder at his reaction before a small woman appeared at her side and fixed her hand to Elizabeth’s elbow.
“Charlotte! Did you see how abominably rude Mr. Bingley was?” she asked, turning to her friend. Charlotte Lucas, despite being several years older, was Elizabeth’s dearest friend. Although objectively plain, Charlotte was good humored, intelligent, and exceedingly practical.
“Yes, I heard it all, but I am afraid that you were in fact mistaken — that is not Mr. Bingley, that is his friend, Mr. Darcy,” Charlotte whispered as she steered Elizabeth toward several chairs in the back of the room. Elizabeth felt her face flush as she sat down.
“Did you not listen to the introductions? Eliza, Mr. Bingley is the man who has been dancing with Jane all evening,” Charlotte continued. Elizabeth put her hand to her cheek in embarrassment.
“I have been preoccupied tonight, I did not pay close attention,” she responded, allowing herself to sink into her mortification for a moment before straightening. “It does not matter his name, however. He is insufferably rude, and knowing he is the richer of the two gentlemen only makes his arrogance worse! The man clearly believes he is above his company.”
“Eliza, hush, I beg you, they are coming our way and I do not wish them to hear you,” Charlotte admonished. Elizabeth looked up to see that her friend was correct, and that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley — who she could now properly identify — had walked through the room and were now standing close enough that she could hear their conversation.
“Come, Darcy, I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance,” Mr. Bingley said to his friend, who remained unmoved.
“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At an assembly such as this it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with,” Mr. Darcy snapped back. Elizabeth and Charlotte stared at each other in near open-mouth wonder.
“I would not be so fastidious as you are for a kingdom! Upon my honor, 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,” Bingley responded, dismissing his friend’s rude comment. Elizabeth found herself nodding in agreement. She had yet to actually speak to the real Mr. Bingley, but she was already liking him exceedingly well.
“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” Mr. Darcy said, gesturing toward Jane. Mr. Bingley, who was facing Elizabeth and Charlotte, broke out into a wide smile.
“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 Miss Bennet to introduce you,” Mr. Bingley said. Mr. Darcy turned around, caught Elizabeth’s eye, and turned back to his friend.
“We have met already. She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me. She seems to have a rather bitter temperament, and I believe she may be a simpleton,” Darcy added. Elizabeth almost choked in surprise. “You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.” Mr. Bingley looked puzzled, but, with a furrowed brow, did as he was directed.
Mr. Darcy turned to follow, but as soon as he began to walk, some unseen obstacle hindered his path, causing him to tilt precariously off balance and stumble into several women who stood nearby. Had he not reached out to grasp Sir William by the shoulder to steady himself, he would have landed most decidedly on the floor.
The room erupted with gasps and titters as the scene unfolded, and Mr. Darcy struggled to right himself and adjust his jacket, his blank expression gone and a bright red flush creeping up the sides of his face. With a nod to Sir William, he quickly excused himself from the room.
“Elizabeth, you are wretched. You made Mr. Darcy humiliate himself,” Charlotte scolded in her ear as Elizabeth attempted to cover the wide smile that had stretched across her face.
“Be reasonable Charlotte. You know very well that sometimes these things just happen. Perhaps Mr. Darcy simply tripped under the overwhelming weight of his ego,” she said at last, barely keeping the laughter from her voice. Though her friend had no doubts that Elizabeth had some training in the magical arts, they never openly acknowledged it.
By the time the Bennets had returned to Longbourn, Elizabeth had recounted Mr. Darcy’s rude statement and subsequent fall multiple times, with some exaggeration and only a little bitterness, aided by Mrs. Bennet, who was decidedly against the man.
“I wish you had been there, my dear, to have given him one of your set downs,” Mrs. Bennet told her husband excitedly. “I quite detest the man.”
Mr. Bennet, who had been stirred from his study momentarily to hear the full report of the assembly, glanced at Elizabeth over the rims of his glasses.
“Oh, I’m sure our Lizzy provided enough of a set down to satisfy me,” he said, his tone a hint accusatory. Mrs. Bennet ignored his comment, but Elizabeth had the decency to blush slightly — though the smile on her face was difficult to hide.
II
“Just because they do not run in London circles does not make them barbaric, Caroline,” Bingley responded with an easy smile as he turned to look out the window of the carriage.
“I heard that they still practice,” Miss Bingley said with a sniff. Mr. Bingley’s head turned back in confusion.
“Practice what?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
“Magic,” his sister Louisa responded curtly, giving her younger sister a knowing look. Bingley let out a loud laugh and then leaned back against the seat of the carriage.
“Really, don’t tell me you believe all those old nursery stories? No one practices magic anymore, if magic ever even existed,” he said, laughing again. “To think you would paint them as a family of witches. I believe the Bennets to be exceedingly pleasant company.”
Darcy, who prefered to stay silent during these family exchanges, unwillingly gave a jolt at this sudden change in the conversation. Most families had the decency to quiet rumors about practicing, and he had found that those with the most talk about them truly had no powers at all. But witchcraft would explain certain things about the Bennet family — such as the eldest Bennet’s uncommonly beautiful appearance, or the humiliating fall he had suffered after an exchange with the second eldest. He began to flush slightly at the memory of his clumsiness. He had never, in all of his eight and twenty years, been so unbalanced. And though he was not a suspicious man, he could not help but wonder if his sudden lack of grace had come from a third party.
“Don’t be naive, Bingley, many families still practice. They just do so quietly,” Darcy said at last, shocking the entire carriage. Miss Bingley struggled to hide the wide smile that had stretched across her face.
“Mr. Darcy, don’t tell me you believe in magic too? I have never seen it, and I believe it to be entirely fictitious,” Bingley responded, looking between Darcy and his brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, for support. Mr. Hurst was, regrettably, asleep, and therefore unwilling to provide aid.
“How do you think Napoleon excels time and again? He harnesses the English magic that we are too stubborn and proud to use, and turns it against us,” Darcy announced. “Magic is very real, and was once widely practiced in all of the great families. Most have let their power go over time as it has gone out of fashion, but it is far from a myth.”
Bingley was openly laughing now.
“Napoleon using magic? I have never heard such a thing!” the younger man responded. Darcy stiffened momentarily, then shrugged.
“If you choose not to believe, that is your choice. Through my own knowledge and experiences, I am not prepared to be so closed to the concept,” Darcy responded. Bingley grew quiet for a moment as the carriage continued to sway down the road.
“I could believe that there is something magical about her,” Bingley said at last, very quietly. Darcy frowned, but did not respond to his friend’s shy declaration, as he was too busy ruminating on the possible magical qualities of a different young lady.
***
Noise was already spilling out of Lucas Lodge when the Netherfield party arrived, and the other guests were in high spirits. The home was practically bursting with militia officers who were stationed in Meryton. The youngest Bennet sisters held court in a far corner, surrounded by a tide of officers, while the middle sister sat on the far end of the room, ignoring all company in favor of a book. Darcy had scarcely taken three steps into the room when he heard the high, grating tones of Mrs. Bennet. At the same time, Darcy and Bingley’s eyes found their target — the two eldest Bennet daughters, who were quietly speaking with a third woman who looked vaguely familiar.
Bingley made his way toward the trio of women immediately, but Darcy held back, instead moving toward a window near the group. His suspicions about Elizabeth Bennet had only grown stronger the longer he had meditated on them, and though he did not wish to speak to her directly, he did desire to learn more about her, and endeavored to do so by observing her interactions with others. For a large portion of the evening he was in close proximity to the woman, never speaking to her directly, but instead listening as she spoke with great enthusiasm and intelligence to each of her neighbors.
At length, Elizabeth grew increasingly annoyed with the gentleman’s obvious stares and eavesdropping, and eventually turned to face him, causing him to take a subconscious step back.
“What do you think of my comment to Colonel Forster just now, Mr. Darcy?” she asked the slightly alarmed looking man. “Do you believe our war effort to be lagging?”
Darcy stared at the woman in slight confusion, utterly unused to discussing military stratagem in a drawing room. Perhaps the woman wasn’t the simpleton he had first assumed she was.
“I do indeed. Just earlier I was discussing this with Mr. Bingley, and I pointed out that while British forces are impeccably trained, we may not be utilizing all the resources available to us. Indeed, Napoleon appears to be quite willing to overlook conventions.”
Elizabeth tilted her head at an angle and arched an eyebrow.
“And what resources are you referring to sir?” Darcy squared his shoulders and looked directly into her eyes, waiting to gauge her response.
“Magic, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and a look of delight crossed her face as she restrained a pealing laugh.
“Magic, sir? You believe Napoleonic forces to be harnessing British magic? Well that would be a sight to behold, and no doubt would explain many things. I take it you believe in magic then, sir?”
“I have, on occasion, endeavored to consider the possibility. Magic is in our history books plainly, if we only choose to read them,” the gentleman said sharply. Elizabeth arched an eyebrow.
“And do you believe, sir, that there are many in this company who would have endeavored to seek out such information?” she asked him coyly, waiting with baited breath to see if he would truly be as shockingly arrogant as she believed him to be. Mr. Darcy’s eyes scanned the room, as though he was genuinely surveying the quality of its contents.
“I would hesitate to estimate that more than two gentlemen in this room have sought out such a task, or been fortunate enough to be educated as such,” he answered plainly, surveying the surprise that registered across the young lady’s face.
“I do not know what books you are reading, Mr. Darcy, but I do not recall any reference to magic in _______’s History of England. I will allow, however, that I have only read the first six volumes. Perhaps his dissertation on enchantments comes in a later book,” she responded. Then, looking beyond his shoulder at nothing in particular, she bobbed. “Pray forgive me sir, I believe my mother needs me,” and quickly side-stepped away.
It was a badly kept secret within Hertfordshire that the family had once had magic, and as a result — either out of courtesy or superstition — almost no one dared broach the subject with any member of the family. As a result, Elizabeth had little practice discussing the matter with individuals while pretending it did not exist, and she found herself very disquieted by her interaction with the cold gentleman.
And the arrogance of believing no one in the room was as studied as him! She almost grew angry again just ruminating on it. But she allowed that he had surprised her with his belief in magic; it was considered extremely unfashionable to allow that the practice had ever existed, no less to advocate for its use on behalf of the war effort. It showed that the
gentleman had a broader mind and opinions than she would have assumed — which almost made it worse that he chose to be so closed off and judgemental in regard to his present company.
She endeavored to avoid him for the rest of the evening, though even with her back turned, her preternatural senses told her that someone was watching her. She did not enjoy it.
***
The days passed quickly in the Bennet household, as the younger sisters made frequent trips to town to visit the officers stationed there, and the elder siblings continued their educations. Mr. Bennet had not yet disclosed to the family the impending visit of Mr. Collins, and Elizabeth grew increasingly distressed about his insistence that one of the girls marry him. As the most beautiful of the siblings, Jane was the obvious first choice; but Elizabeth began to believe that her dearest sister’s heart had been touched by the affable Mr. Bingley, and thus was at odds with herself as to whether she should encourage her sister’s affections or not.
Should Jane learn about her father’s wishes, she would feel indebted, as oldest, to do the deed herself, and would immediately discard any thoughts and hopes she had for a future with Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth could not stand to see her sister close off her options purely out of a misplaced sense of familial obligation, and thus was inclined to not tell her. But would it not be far more cruel to allow Jane and Mr. Bingley to truly begin to develop an understanding, only for Jane to be forced to choose?
In the end, Elizabeth’s decision was made easy by the arrival of an invitation from Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst for Jane to dine at Netherfield. The gentlemen would be dining away for the night, much to Mrs. Bennet’s distress, but the threat of rain on the horizon was enough to rally their mother’s spirits, and thus it was promptly decided that Jane would travel on horseback. Though usually inclined to argue with her mother’s plans, Elizabeth stayed mute while her sister protested, and at length Jane was on her way to Netherfield astride one of the Bennet’s horses. Elizabeth followed her out the door and put a hand into the soil quietly, closed her eyes, and listened.