by Meg Osborne
A Convenient Marriage
Volume One
Longbourn’s Lark,
Three Weeks in Kent,
&
Suitably Wed
A Pride and Prejudice Variation Series
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
A CONVENIENT MARRIAGE VOLUME 1
First edition. December 31, 2017.
Copyright © 2017 Meg Osborne.
ISBN: 978-1386477747
Written by Meg Osborne.
Also by Meg Osborne
A Convenient Marriage
A Convenient Marriage Volume 1
Longbourn's Lark: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Three Weeks in Kent: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Suitably Wed: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
A Visit to Scotland: A Pride and Prejudice Variaton
The Consequence of Haste: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
A Surprise Engagement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Fate and Fortune
Too Fond of Stars: A Persuasion Variation
A Temporary Peace: A Persuasion Variation
Three Sisters from Hertfordshire
A Trip to Pemberley
An Assembly in Bath
An Escape from London
Standalone
After the Letter: A Persuasion Continuation
Half the Sum of Attraction: A Persuasion Prequel
A Very Merry Masquerade: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Novella
The Other Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Novella
In Netherfield Library and Other Stories
Mr Darcy's Christmas Carol: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Such Peculiar Providence
A Chance at Happiness
The Colonel's Cousin: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Watch for more at Meg Osborne’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Meg Osborne
A Convenient Marriage Volume 1
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Also By Meg Osborne
About the Author
Longbourn’s Lark
A Convenient Marriage Book 1
Chapter One
Mary Bennet slid into her familiar and favourite seat, in front of the pianoforte she thought of as hers and ran her fingers lightly over the keys. The usual chaos that echoed throughout Longbourn was quieted due, in part, to the absence of Lydia and Kitty, who had insisted on walking to Meryton to pay a visit to the regiment, undaunted by the promise of rain and determined only in succeeding in their mission. They had even invited her, Mary, to accompany them, which invitation she had primly refused. Their flirtations were shocking to quiet, shy Mary, and yet neither of her young sisters seemed in the slightest bit embarrassed to be observed acting so free and friendly with the laughing young men that made up the Meryton regiment.
Mary began to pick out a tune that she had heard at the recent assembly, wishing she had been brave enough to enquire of the musicians the name of the piece. She had intended to, hovering as close as she dared so that she might catch a glimpse of their sheet music, or draw someone into some conversation, perhaps be invited to play something herself. Her eyes fluttered closed as she indulged in the happy daydream for half a moment. She would play, and everyone would admire her talent, praise her for her skill, and at last, she would be the Bennet daughter that everyone acknowledged. She hit a wrong note, and in frustration pounded out a discordant end to the piece. It had not happened, of course. It never did. She might as well be invisible, for all the notice anyone paid her. Even her sisters scarcely acknowledged her presence. Jane was too busy with this new Mr Bingley to pay any mind to her own family, and Mary was only too glad to stay out of Elizabeth’s notice. She frowned. Her sister had a sharp tongue and was eager to use it on her, whenever Mary said a word that did not meet with her approval.
Slowly, her frown gave way to a smile. Today, all her sisters were out, or busy. The house was quiet, and she was free to play as much as she chose without fear of censure. Hovering over another chord, she leaned into it, her confidence growing as she played, and her fingers flying over the familiar notes as she traced out an old favourite of hers, a piece she could play in her sleep. There! she thought, hitting the last notes with a flourish. That has cleared some cobwebs away. She played another piece, and then another, gaining confidence in her playing and finding enjoyment at being allowed to do as she wished without offending her family’s ears.
Minutes passed without Mary's notice, for if she heard the large clock on the mantel chime the hour, she did not pay it any heed, so lost was she in her music. She began to find herself humming along a melody to her own accompaniment and then felt brave enough to sing the words to a particularly pretty song she had long favoured. She sang rarely around her family, although she loved to do it, because singing before company made her nervous, and her nerves, in turn, made her voice wander from true, and the whole effect was mortifying for one who truly adored music as much as she did. Here, unheard and unobserved, she might sing and play to her heart's content, and she did so, her voice soaring in pitch and volume. She halted only at the sound of an unfamiliar gentleman's cough, and she leapt back from the piano as if it had burnt her.
“Oh, please forgive me!” the offending gentleman said. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
“Frighten me?” Mary yelped, breathing hard. “I - I -” She glanced around in desperation. Who was this stranger, and what was he doing in the parlour of Longbourn?
“Your housekeeper showed me through - she did introduce me, and I felt sure you had heard us, but -”
The gentleman was tall and dressed elegantly enough, Mary presumed, although she knew little enough of fashion to make any real judgment. There was some familiarity to his face and she wondered fleetingly if they had met before. Then, fearful of being caught staring, she dropped her gaze.
“You have come to see my father, I suppose,” she said. “He is in his study, I shall fetch him.”
“No,” the gentleman said, with a nervous laugh.
“One of my sisters, then? I am afraid you will be disappointed, for they are all out at present, but -”
“No, you misunderstand me, Miss
- uh -” He hesitated, flushing a warm red as he struggled to recall the name she had not yet given him.
“Bennet,” Mary said, quietly. “Mary Bennet.”
“Miss Bennet.” The gentleman smiled, warmly, at her, ducking his gaze slightly to meet hers. “I am Colonel Fitzwilliam. I am in search of a cousin of mine who is staying near here, and I’m afraid I lost my way. Your house was the first I came to, and I stopped in only to ask for directions. I must ask your forgiveness for disturbing you, and for upsetting you by my presence. I bid the housekeeper not to disturb anyone, but -”
“Mary?” Mr Bennet’s thundering voice came down the corridor. “Jennings tells me there is a gentleman here to see me, but -”
Colonel Fitzwilliam straightened and turned his attention to the doorway as Mr Bennet stomped through it.
“I am he, sir,” he said, bowing slightly in greeting. “Please forgive me for disturbing your peace, and that of your daughter.”
“Oh, never mind Mary!” Mr Bennet said, dismissing his apology with the wave of his hand. He squinted at their visitor. “How can I help you, Mr -”
“Colonel,” Mary supplied, shrinking back once more as both gentlemen’s gazes swivelled towards her. “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she whispered.
“Colonel?” Mr Bennet blinked, turning back to their visitor with renewed interest. “Well, indeed. And what brings you to Longbourn, Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
COLONEL RICHARD FITZWILLIAM gratefully accepted the tea that was offered to him, for he felt as if he had been walking for hours in the Hertfordshire countryside, and spent weeks on his feet before that with his regiment. The comforts of home were a distant memory to him, and he thought Longbourn a very comfortable home indeed.
“If it is Mr Darcy you seek then you’ve not got far to go,” Mr Bennet said, his words muffled by the large mouthful of fruitcake he was working on. “It’s three or four miles in that direction.” He waved his hand towards the window. “But you might as well stay here and rest a quarter hour before moving on. You’re cousins, did you say?”
“That's right,” Colonel Fitzwilliam clarified. He glanced towards the piano, which the young Miss Bennet - Mary, he thought her name was - had hurried away from the instant he was invited to stay by her father. Instead, she sat primly on a chair opposite them, watching their conversation intently, but offering nothing by way of contribution. Richard felt a flash of guilt for disturbing her and stumbling upon them so suddenly. He could only imagine the flash of fear she must have felt to look up and see him - a stranger - standing before her in that very room, without warning or escort. It had not been his intention to blunder into a stranger's house and frighten his daughter, of course. In fact, Richard had not intended on entering at all, but his query of whether the gentleman of the house was at home was taken for a request to see him, and the housekeeper had obediently hurried him into the parlour, and now they were happily taking tea as if they were old friends and not new acquaintances.
“You do not look a bit alike!” Mr Bennet remarked, taking a loud gulp of his tea. “Still I suppose that might be taken as a compliment to one of you.”
Richard smiled, vaguely, but was not sure whether Mr Bennet intended his comment as a joke or an insult.
“You’ll be well acquainted with Mr Bingley as well, then?” Mr Bennet prompted. “He seems a fine enough fellow, and being head of a house full of young ladies I certainly hear more than I need to about the man.” His eyes twinkled. “You must count yourself fortunate, Colonel, not to call at Longbourn while my wife is at home, I do not doubt she would endeavour to trap you here until you pledged to marry at least one of our daughters.” He chuckled. “Is that not so, Mary?”
Mary said nothing, but when Richard glanced up at her, he saw her eyes flash with anger or embarrassment, he was not sure which.
“I have only met Mr Bingley once, some years ago,” Richard said, eager to return Mr Bennet to an altogether safer topic of conversation and spare his daughter whatever anxiety this last comment had provoked. “And his sister, not at all, although I am of course obliged to them for their hospitality.”
“Do you intend on staying long in Hertfordshire, Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
It took Richard a moment to realise that he had not imagined the question but that Mary Bennet herself had asked it. When he glanced at her, her gaze was fixed once more on the tea-tray, so that she might have appeared to have made the enquiry of the room at large, were it not for her use of his name.
“Not long, no. I am on my way to Kent.” He grimaced, almost without meaning to. Kent meant Rosings, which meant Aunt Catherine. He called to visit Darcy first as a precursor to that, and for the chance to seek the advice of his cousin on how best to manage their shared aunt. It was Aunt Catherine’s request that had him travel at all, for he had been half of a mind to go north, until her summons had arrived. She wished to ascertain for herself that he was not too badly off after the war. There had been some rumour of his taking ill, or suffering an injury, and whilst it would be indelicate to inquire of the nature of his illness, she wished to see her “dear nephew” for herself and be assured of his well-being. Richard had smirked. He was not sure he was ever her “dear” nephew when Darcy was also in consideration. Her “other” nephew, perhaps. War had apparently raised him in her estimation, but he was not one to jettison family responsibilities and was obliged to call on her. Kent would make a pleasant change of pace, and, fortified after a brief stint in Hertfordshire, Richard thought he would manage the winter very well.
“Ah, then it is indeed a pity our house is so quiet, for we have another guest staying here who hails from Kent!” Mr Bennet returned his teacup to its saucer with a musical clink. “My cousin, Mr Collins is a curate there.”
“I believe,” Marys’ voice came, quietly, from her corner once more. “I believe his patroness is aunt to Mr Darcy, a Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
This prompted even Mr Bennet to look shrewdly at his daughter.
“You listen to his tales with more patience than I do, Mary!” To Richard: “Are you acquainted with this Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”
“A little,” Richard admitted with a smile. “She is my aunt also.”
“Then you had better be on your way sooner rather than later,” Mr Bennet remarked. “For Mr Collins shall never wish to release you once he learns of your relationship. He has already attempted to align himself quite closely with Mr Darcy, with, ah, limited success.”
“Indeed!” Richard could not help but laugh at the image this short description conjured up. He could well imagine Darcy trying to evade a growing friendship with any man so linked with Lady Catherine, and the notion that that man appeared eager for friendship would only serve to push Darcy further into retreat. “How fortunate that I should come at such a time!” Richard remarked. “And how providential that I should make your acquaintance first!”
Chapter Two
“Well, Miss Bingley, Mr Bingley, I must congratulate you on securing such a fine, elegant property.” Mr Collins clapped his hands and beamed benevolently at their friends as if he were bestowing a great compliment, which was nonetheless undone by his next words. “It does not compare entirely unfavourably with Rosings, would not you say, Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes skywards, but was nonetheless amused to see Darcy mutter something in agreement and turn away almost immediately to engage Mrs Bennet in conversation. The fact that poor Mr Darcy chose her mother as a preferable companion to her cousin made Elizabeth bite her tongue hard to keep from laughing out loud. Unfortunately, she must have made some sound, however slight, for Mr Collins turned his attention directly to her.
“I do not say it compares exactly, my dear cousin Elizabeth, because, of course, Rosings is far superior in its style and position, as is entirely befitting for one of Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s standing...”
Elizabeth plastered a polite smile on her face, and allowed her thoughts to wander, ensuring only that she nodded at inter
mittent moments to give the impression of listening to all that Mr Collins chose to say. She was fortunate, having two sisters who twittered just as happily about topics she had no interest in, that she had perfected this skill of appearing to pay attention whilst indulging in her own thoughts quite some time previously. It was a talent that continued to serve her well.
The small party that had intended on calling on Netherfield had doubled, for when Jane and Elizabeth mentioned making the journey on foot, Mr Collins had jumped up and offered to escort them, as he was very eager to form a better acquaintance with Mr Darcy on account of Lady Catherine. This had been disappointing, but Elizabeth did not anticipate Mr Collins' presence to be unduly detrimental to her true intent on calling: that it might afford Jane and Mr Bingley a better opportunity to converse than they had had at Meryton. Mr Collin’s suggestion had somehow sparked Mrs Bennet’s interest, and she, too, insisted on accompanying her daughters to call on “dear Mr Bingley”. Elizabeth did not doubt her mother’s intention was similar to her own but did rather suspect that her methods would be lacking in tact and serve to do more harm than good in furthering the fragile connection between Jane and Mr Bingley. Still, Mrs Bennet would not be dissuaded, and eventually all four made the short journey from Longbourn to Netherfield by carriage.
“Miss Eliza, I am surprised that only you and dearest Jane came to visit us. When I saw your cousin and mother in the carriage with you, I half expected all of your sisters to be within, as well.” Caroline Bingley’s comment was made with every impression of politeness but there was no mistaking her critical tone.
“It is rather a small carriage to comfortably seat such a party. In any case, Mary wished to remain at home, and Lydia and Kitty had...other plans.” Lizzy felt a flash of hesitation before admitting her younger sisters' enthusiasm had been for Meryton and for the regiment, sure that saying so would merely give Caroline Bingley more ammunition with which to make thinly veiled criticisms of their family, which Lizzy did not wish to reach Mr Bingley’s ears. He seemed a charming man, and perfectly content to know their family and consider them friends, but his sister's opinion of them had never been concealed and Lizzy feared that this, combined with Mr Darcy’s evident disdain for her and her whole family would serve to discourage Mr Bingley from pursuing any match with Jane. Lizzy’s sole intention was to see her sister happily married, and although she believed in her heart there was no man truly good enough to be worthy of Jane’s affections, Mr Bingley appeared to have won them, and as he was quite the nicest gentleman of their acquaintance, he would have to do. They would marry, Elizabeth was determined.