by Zoe Carter
Prevailed On To Marry
By
Zoe Carter
© Zoe Carter 2016
This book is a work of fiction. The characters and incidents are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person or incident is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. Nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
With grateful thanks to Jane Austen for her wonderful book, Pride and Prejudice, on which this story is based
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Chapter One
‘I say, Darcy, you never told me that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was such a charming young woman,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam to his cousin one day. ‘I thought you said Miss Jane Bennet was the beauty of the family, but I must admit that I find Miss Elizabeth Bennet most beguiling. I find the way her hair curls as it falls about her ears quite enchanting, and those sparkling eyes are really quite remarkable. There is something in her expression which is at the same time playful and alluring. If it were not for the fact that I have to marry an heiress, I would be tempted to court her. If she seemed at all agreeable to my suit, I would offer for her myself.’
The two gentlemen were sitting next to each other on a sofa in the drawing-room at Rosings Park. It was almost Easter and they were staying at Rosings as guests of their aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The room was splendid, in keeping with every other room at Rosings, and displayed the wealth of the owner. The furniture was gilded and there were porcelain nick-nacks everywhere. High windows stretched almost from ceiling to floor, letting in the afternoon sunshine and giving a view over the gardens. Like everything else at Rosings, the gardens were magnificent. Lady Catherine was a formidable woman and her servants made sure the house and gardens were perfect, knowing that Lady Catherine would severely reprimand them if they let their standards slip for one moment. Lady Catherine was not a woman to take such things lightly!
‘A man could do worse than look at Miss Elizabeth’s lovely face across the breakfast table for the rest of his life, eh?’ Colonel Fitzwilliam continued. ‘That lovely smile and those beautiful ruby lips . . . as well as her other assets!’
He nudged his cousin in the ribs and winked.
Mr Darcy felt himself growing increasingly uncomfortable throughout his cousin’s speech, and at this last comment he stood up and walked to the other side of his aunt’s room, where he sat down in an elegant chair. He really did not want to talk about Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She occupied far too much of his attention as it was.
He had removed himself from her company before Christmas and he was horrified to find her at Rosings, where she was in danger of charming him all over again. He wanted to forget her, not be reminded of her loveliness. She did indeed have beautiful curling hair and incredibly beautiful eyes, but he did not want Colonel Fitzwilliam to say so. He was even more annoyed by his soldier cousin’s mention of her assets, which were indeed very beguiling. She had a womanly figure and in fact, though he hated to admit it, she was his idea of perfection. He was not ordinarily a jealous man, but Miss Elizabeth Bennet affected him like no other woman and he could not bear to hear his cousin praising her.
His thoughts went back to the autumn, when he had met her in Hertfordshire. Despite himself, he had been mesmerised by her. Her sparkling nature and her brilliant eyes, which glowed like diamonds in her lovely face, had awakened something in him he would have rather left sleeping. It was most inconvenient to find himself attracted to the daughter of a country squire. Moreover, to the daughter of a country squire who had an irritating, garrulous mother and four silly sisters. No, he withdrew that thought. Her older sister, Miss Jane Bennet, was not silly. She was really rather lovely. But that did not make Miss Elizabeth Bennet an eligible young lady. Or, at least, it did not make her eligible for Mr Darcy of Pemberley, who was one of the most sought-after bachelors in the country.
Everything about him showed him to be the master of Pemberley, from the top of his immaculately brushed, wavy dark hair, to the tip of his polished Hessian boots. A faultless black tailcoat, a frothy cravat and a pristine pair of cream breeches lay in between, presenting the kind of simple but perfect appearance only the very wealthy could afford.
‘I tell you, Darcy, a man might do a lot worse than Miss Elizabeth,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam, settling himself more comfortably on the sofa. He leaned back and threw his arm negligently along the back of the sofa, while his long legs found a more convenient way of disporting themselves, crossing at the ankles.
‘But as you have remarked, cousin, she is not an heiress and so she will never become your wife,’ said Mr Darcy coldly, in an attempt to shut down the conversation.
‘How about your wife, eh, Darcy?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam. Then he roared with laughter. ‘That would be a turn-up for the books! It would certainly put a spoke in Lady Catherine’s wheel. She’s been trying to get you to offer for Anne since you were in your cradles! That’s why she invites you to Rosings every year, you know. She wants you to finally pop the question and take Anne off her hands!’
‘That is not the way to talk about Anne,’ said Mr Darcy repressively. ‘She is a highly desirable heiress and any man would be lucky to have her as a wife.’
‘Just not you, eh, Darcy?’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam, with another roar of laughter.
Mr Darcy picked up the newspaper and shook it out, then opened it in front of him so that it hid his face entirely.
‘The famous Darcy newspaper move!’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘You’ve inherited that from your father. He always picked up the newspaper to signal that a discussion was at an end as well. But you’ll find I’m not to be shaken off so easily. I really want to know, Darcy.’ He uncrossed his ankles and leant forward, becoming more eager in his manner. ‘Are you going to offer for Anne or aren’t you?’
Mr Darcy looked over the top of the newspaper.
‘Why? Are you thinking of offering for her yourself?’
‘Do you know, if you don’t go ahead and propose very soon, I think I will. Anne is an heiress and she’ll make me a good wife. I can have a large estate, horses, dogs, carriages – all the trappings of a rich man. I think I could get used to it. It would make a change from living on my soldier’s pay! I might be the son of an earl, but my father keeps a tight control of the family’s purse strings, and as I’m only a younger son I never see a penny of the family wealth. Yes, Anne as a wife might suit me very well.’
‘Lady Catherine will never allow it,’ said Mr Darcy with an air of finality.
He disappeared behind his newspaper again.
‘Not if she has a chance of you for a son-in-law, but I think she will allow it if you propose to Miss Elizabeth Bennet!’
‘Propose . . . to Miss Elizabeth Bennet,’ said Mr Darcy with a reproving glance. ‘Dear cousin, have you run mad? I am no more likely to propose to Miss Elizabeth Bennet than I am to fly to the moon.’
‘Now don’t come over all frosty with me, Darcy!’ laughed Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at her, whatever you might say. You’re attracted to her. Go on, admit it!’
‘I will admit no such thing,’ said Mr Darcy with a haughty air.
‘Coming it too strong, Cousin. You can’t fool me. You like her.’
Mr Darcy turned the pages of his newspaper, which rustled with a disdainful air.
‘Miss Elizabeth is nothing to me,’ he said.
‘Oh, no, you don’t get away with that. I know you too well. You’re attracted to her but you won’t admit it because you think she’s beneath you. You think you should marry some noble daughter of a noble house, not some country miss, but you’re wrong. You should marry a woman who will stand up to you, and I think Miss Elizabeth is just the young woman to do it!’
‘Where do you get these delusions?’ asked Mr Darcy. ‘I have no wish to marry a woman who will stand up to me. I require a wife who will be obedient and well bred, one who will never embarrass me in public and one who will defer to me in all things ...’
‘That isn’t a wife, that’s a servant!’ joked Colonel Fitzwilliam.
‘… and who will make my comfort her first concern. One who will be loyal and steadfast, instead of impertinent,’ continued Mr Darcy.
‘That isn’t a wife, nor even a servant. That’s a dog!’ teased Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Come now, Darcy, admit it, if just to me. You like Miss Elizabeth. You find her company stimulating and her conversation sparkling. You like the way she stands up to you and you like the way she doesn’t defer to you. It’s enough to rouse any red-blooded male and you’ve always been a simmering volcano beneath that icy exterior!’
‘If I really liked her as much as you say I do, then why haven’t I proposed to her?’ asked Mr Darcy, folding his newspaper and looking at his cousin challengingly.
‘Because your pride won’t allow it. But if you have any sense you will propose to her before you leave Rosings, otherwise someone else will snap her up. And that someone might just be me.’
Mr Darcy was heartily annoyed but he was determined not to let his cousin see it, so he raised his eyebrows haughtily.
‘You would have nothing to live on if you married her, and you are a man who likes his luxuries,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘Your father would not receive her and he would most likely cut you off without a penny, so you would be worse off than you are now. You will never propose to her. You have too much sense.’
Colonel Fitzwilliam sat back again, crossing one leg over the other at the knee.
‘Very well, I admit it. But you have money aplenty. You don’t need to think of such things. You can marry where you will. I tell you, Darcy, Miss Elizabeth is the wife for you. You will be a fool if you let this chance pass you by, because once Miss Elizabeth leaves Rosings you might never see her again.’
‘And a good thing too,’ said Mr Darcy, opening his newspaper again.
But behind its large white pages, he found himself thinking about what his cousin had said. He was attracted to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He did think it would be exciting to be married to her. And he was rich enough to please himself. It was also true that if he missed this opportunity to speak to her, he might never have another one, because once she left Rosings he might never bump into her again.
That fact gave him pause. He was far from thinking of proposing. But the seed had been planted and he found he couldn’t dismiss the thought from his mind.
Chapter Two
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was staying at the Rosings rectory with her friend, Mrs Charlotte Collins, and Charlotte’s husband, the Rev Mr Collins. Elizabeth had felt rather awkward to begin with because Mr Collins had originally wanted to marry her and not Charlotte. He had proposed to her out of a misguided sense of family loyalty, and when Elizabeth had turned him down he had proposed to Charlotte instead.
The whole thing had been rather ridiculous, and rather embarrassing, but Charlotte was now established as the mistress of the parsonage and, at the advanced age of almost thirty, she was very grateful for it. She had her poultry to care for, and the parishioners to help and Lady Catherine to manage, which all made her life more interesting than it had been when she was a spinster. She did not regret her marriage and she had told Elizabeth she was happy.
Elizabeth, at the less advanced age of twenty, wanted more from life, and more from marriage, than poultry and parishioners and an officious noblewoman to manage. She had refused to settle for the ridiculous Mr Collins, no matter how comfortable his house or how secure his living. Indeed, even if Elizabeth had been thirty, instead of twenty, she would not have settled for anything less than love. Because the deepest, sincerest love, for Elizabeth, was the only reason for marriage.
After the initial awkwardness was over, however, Elizabeth had started to enjoy herself at the Rosings rectory. She and Charlotte had been friends for years and they had plenty to talk about. Charlotte’s sister, Maria, was also staying and so the three ladies spent most of their time together. There was novelty in the visit, as Elizabeth had never been there before, and so her time passed pleasantly. That is, until Mr Darcy turned up!
She was taken aback to see him there, but after the first shock wore off, she took it in her stride. She was an intelligent and sensible young woman, as well as a witty and lively one, and she was not going to give way to a fit of the vapours just because Mr Darcy had arrived.
Mr Darcy was not the only new arrival at Rosings. His cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, had arrived too. She rather liked Colonel Fitzwilliam, and she was rather attracted to him. He was tall and well made, and he was every inch the gentleman. He was so much nicer than Mr Darcy! He had none of Mr Darcy’s haughty disdain. Instead, he had a twinkle in his eye and an altogether lighter disposition. He entertained her very well in the evenings at Rosings, engaging her in conversation and singing with her and generally proving himself most agreeable.
Unfortunately, he had unwittingly upset her that very afternoon. She had been walking in Rosings park, making the most of the fine weather, when she had bumped into Colonel Fitzwilliam. They had talked together for some time before he had said something that struck her to her heart. He had told her that Mr Darcy had saved his friend, Mr Bingley, from making a disastrous marriage the year before. “There were some very strong objections to the lady” he had said.
Poor Elizabeth had been shaken by this, for the lady was none other than her own dear sister, Jane.
Of course, Colonel Fitzwilliam had not known that, and Elizabeth had not embarrassed him by saying so, but she had returned to the rectory feeling very low in spirits.
To make matters worse, she was expected to take tea at Rosings, where she would be sure to meet Mr Darcy. She had never liked him. Indeed, from their first meeting she had found him rude, arrogant, proud, in fact everything a man should not be. The last thing she wanted, today, was to meet him at Rosings park, for she feared she would be rude to him if she saw him. Usually, she could hide her dislike of him. But not today. Today, with Colonel Fitzwilliam’s words ringing in her ears, she was afraid she would say something that would embarrass the company; something she would later regret.
So she said to Charlotte, ‘I don’t think I can take tea at Rosings today. I have a headache. I really think I must stay here quietly by myself instead.’
‘Oh, I am sorry to hear that. I guessed that something was wrong. Ever since you came back from your walk this morning you have looked unhappy. Has your head been hurting all day?’
‘Most of it,’ said Elizabeth.
She did not explain the reason because she did not want any fuss to be made. Instead, she wanted to be left alone. Luckily, Charlotte was sympathetic and said of course she must stay at the rectory if she was not well.
Mr Collins was not so understanding. He looked very grave when Elizabeth said she did not intend to go to Rosings. He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked up on to his toes, and then down again, shaking his hea
d and making tutting noises. He looked very pompous and very ridiculous, and it was all Elizabeth could do not to laugh at him.
‘My dear Miss Elizabeth,’ he said. ‘No one could be more sympathetic than I, but sympathy does not absolve you from your duty. You must make an effort. If you bathe your temples in lavender water I am sure you will soon be feeling better, and you will feel able to go with us. Now that Lady Catherine has been good enough to invite us, it would be the height of bad manners to let her down. If your father were here, he would say the same thing. Your duty is your duty and you must do it.’
‘It is no good, Mr Collins,’ said Elizabeth firmly. ‘My head is throbbing and I should make a poor guest in this condition. I should not be able to entertain her ladyship. Indeed I would cast a pall over the proceedings because my evident ill health would make everyone uncomfortable. You would not like Lady Catherine to feel uncomfortable, I am certain?’
‘I would not!’ said Mr Collins, shocked. ‘Lady Catherine is a very great lady and it would be abominable to make her feel uncomfortable. But you will not let that happen, Miss Elizabeth. You will make an effort to entertain her and I am sure you will be successful.’
‘And I am sure I will not,’ said Elizabeth with a note of finality in her voice. To clinch matters, she said, ‘A headache can sometimes be a symptom of something more serious and it is possible I am coming down with a fever. You would not wish me to risk Lady Catherine’s health, and the health of her daughter?’
‘Indeed I would not! If it is a question of a more serious illness, then of course you must not go. It would be the height of bad manners to repay Lady Catherine’s kind hospitality with a fever!’
‘Exactly so,’ said Elizabeth gravely.
‘You must stay at home, and you must take to your bed.’
‘I do not think that will be necessary,’ said Elizabeth.