Pride & Prejudice Villains Revisited – Redeemed – Reimagined: A Collection of Six Pride and Prejudice Variation Short Stories

by Renata McMann

  Epilogue: Sixteen Years Later

  Slowly, as the evening wound down, the guests left, all smiling and all looking pleased. Mr. Wilson and his wife lingered a few minutes later than the rest to congratulate Caroline on her ability to hold an elegant dinner to impress their business associates. Robert, now a full partner with Mr. Wilson, thanks to his investment of most of Caroline’s dowry, beamed with pride at their praise for her. Caroline, in turn, felt pride that she could be the perfect wife for Robert, for he was always the perfect husband for her.

  When she was finally alone with him, she snuggled against Robert and said, “He seems to think you married me for my ability to hold a dinner party.”

  “On the contrary, he thinks I married you for your dowry.”

  After a lingering kiss, she said, “That’s silly, when we both know you married me for access to Mr. Hurst’s library.” She kissed him again, before pulling away so she could look into his serious gray eyes. “Or was it because I trapped you, pursuing you across London and compromising your honor by sending you an indecent number of inappropriate letters?”

  He pulled her against him, murmuring into her hair, “I fell in love with you at fourteen, before I knew enough to realize what I was asking of you, just how far out of my reach you were. Sometimes, I hate that I brought you down.”

  “Brought me down? I live better than Charles does.”

  “We have more money than your brother, true. Now, at least.” He didn’t need to remind Caroline of the lean years before his investments paid off. “But you aren’t accepted by the ton. I’ve made you less respectable than your sister, something I find it hard to forgive myself for.”

  “We are accepted by the people who matter to me, to us. Charles and Jane accept us. Mr. Hurst always did. Even Louisa finally came around.”

  “Only after the birth of our first child,” Robert said. “It helped that we named her Louisa.”

  “Speaking of which, she wrote from school that she would like to visit a classmate over the holidays. The young woman’s name is Jane Darcy.”

  “Of the Pemberley Darcys? Do they know her family is in trade?”

  “Oh yes. If you remember, the girls first met a few years ago when we were visiting Charles. Mrs. Darcy would remember.” Caroline smiled, recalling the pleasant visit. She and Elizabeth got on well, after Caroline made her apology. “I’m glad she forgave me all the times I slighted her before she married Mr. Darcy.”

  “Just as I forgave you for all the times you treated me like furniture when I worked for the Hursts.” She didn’t protest his unfair comment because it was a joke they’d long shared. “Of course, I know how you made that up to me. I can’t imagine how you managed to mend things with Mrs. Darcy. I can’t think it was at all the same way.”

  “Robert!” she exclaimed, her eyes going wide. She looked up to find his gray eyes gazing down at her in perfect innocence.

  “Actually, I don’t know that you’ve made it up to me yet,” he said. His look was serious, almost contemplative, but, after sixteen years, she knew her husband well.

  “In that case, it’s my wifely duty to continue to try.” She smiled at him, took his hand, and led him upstairs.

  ~ The End ~

  Lady Catherine Regrets

  Because Anne de Bourgh speaks so little, it is easy to make her into anything, but we wondered what she is really like. We know a great deal about Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but the only good thing to say about her is that she loves her daughter Anne. We tried to build on that to make her sympathetic in Lady Catherine Regrets.

  Chapter One

  Dear Darcy.

  I paused, my pen poised over the page, eying those two words. No, I thought. He isn’t dear anything. He isn’t My dear nephew. He isn’t Dear Fitzwilliam. Not dear anything at all. Not anymore.

  Well, it would have to do. I wanted to write the letter, not spend time pondering a form of address that would convey my displeasure. The meat of the thing would do that.

  I am shocked that you are planning to marry Elizabeth Bennet even though I warned you about her. She used her arts and allurements to draw you in. I know the engagement is already public, but I’m sure she can be bought off. Think before you take the final step. You are engaged to Anne. Your mother and I arranged it when you were children. Such a long standing engagement cannot be ignored.

  Elizabeth Bennet isn’t worthy of you. She isn’t accomplished. She barely plays and sings. Her mother’s family comes from trade. Trade! How could you align yourself with them?

  She has neither style nor connections. Her younger sisters are wild. It’s common knowledge that the youngest had a patched up marriage at her family’s expense. She ran off with an officer without family or connections. The whole family is tainted by the youngest sister’s behavior. They will never be accepted in society. The oldest sister will marry someone whose fortune came from trade. The mother is a stupid harpy who will make your life miserable. Their father has no control over the family and lets them do as they please.

  Elizabeth Bennet is too strong minded to be a lady. She has her own opinions and doesn’t hesitate to express them. She took long walks by herself at Rosings. She is as wild as her sister and is certain to get into trouble. You should have heard her pert answers when I asked about her background. She is not ladylike. She isn’t even pretty.

  Think of your responsibilities. Think of Anne, who would make you a wonderful, obedient wife. Anne, whose lineage is impeccable. Anne who knows how to behave and will never give you any trouble. How can you disappoint everyone? Anne, the Earl of Matlock, his Countess, and your cousins all expected yours and Anne’s marriage. I’m sure your sister was expecting to welcome her cousin as Mistress of Pemberley. You cannot ignore your duty.

  Your fiancée is guilty of gross ingratitude. I entertained her at Rosings and was repaid by the perfidy of her highhanded seduction of you. I will never receive Elizabeth Bennet. I won’t recognize her. I will do everything I can to make others realize what a terrible mistake you make in marrying her. I will let them know how low she is and how unsuitable she is for the demands of being your wife.

  I make no formal adieu in this letter. You know the extent of my titles, and the influence that accompanies them.

  Lady Catherine de Bourgh

  There. It was done. I sealed it and sent it. For good measure, I wrote my brother, the Earl of Matlock. If anyone could make Darcy see reason, it was the head of the family. Perhaps I could stop this marriage. Perhaps Darcy would return to his senses and wed Anne.

  When my brother’s reply arrived, it wasn’t helpful. He said:

  Darcy’s choice of a wife is neither my business nor yours. The so-called engagement between Darcy and your daughter was idle speculation between two mothers of babies. It did not bind either party. Give it up. Find a husband for Anne and forget about Darcy.

  Well, I would not accept that. I wrote to my nephew Richard. I wrote to my sister-in-law. I hired someone to find me a reason Miss Bennet wasn’t legally permitted to marry. I even sullied myself by writing to the girl’s worthless father. I offered him ten thousand pounds to stop the wedding. I thought that, at last, would work, but he never replied. I could only assume my letter went missing. If I’d realized it in time, I would have sent another. The one thing I did not do was write to Miss Bennet. I refused to have anything to do with her.

  Each day, when the paper arrived, I ignored the news and went straight to the announcements of marriages before looking at anything else. Eventually, as was to be expected in view of my lack of success, the day came when the dreaded announcement was there.

  I sank back in my chair, letting the paper fall. It was over. There was nothing I could do. When had I become so powerless?

  There was no use putting it off. I had to tell Anne.

  I knew I must do it gently. Anne was so fragile that she needed special handling. I also knew it must be done soon, before she found out some other way.

  Anne was
better early in the day, so I prepared immediately. I debated whether I should keep or exclude Anne’s companion Mrs. Jenkinson, and decided to keep her. She was so good with Anne.

  Calling a servant, I had a glass of wine poured so it was available immediately if Anne needed it. I arranged for her to be seated on a sofa in case she fainted. Mrs. Jenkinson would sit at her side, as usual. Once all the preparations were made, I sent for Anne.

  She looked so fragile when she entered the room. I didn’t know if I had the strength to tell her. I realized I must, or she would hear it from someone else.

  “You sent for me, Mama?” Anne asked.

  “Anne, I am sorry to say that I have bad news. Please, be seated.”

  She sat, looking worried. Damn Elizabeth Bennet to the devil for making my Anne look worried, and for stealing Darcy from her.

  “What is it, Mama?” Anne prompted.

  There was no point in delaying it further, but I still had trouble saying it. “Darcy married Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  There was no reaction. Didn’t Anne understand the import of what I’d just said? “He won’t marry you. He ignored your engagement. He married that friend of Mrs. Collins. The woman who visited last Easter. The one who barely deserves the designation of being a lady. The one who was so unladylike and impertinent.” As I spoke, my anger was renewed. How could Darcy do this to Anne?

  “He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her,” Anne said, shrugging.

  “What!” Anne had noticed that? Why hadn’t she said anything?

  “I’m surprised they weren’t married sooner,” Anne continued. “I don’t think she was interested in him then, but he would be hard to resist.”

  “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You saw what I saw,” Anne said with maddening composure.

  “Don’t you want some wine?”

  “No thank you. It makes me sleepy and I left orders for my phaeton to be brought around.” Anne made no move to get up but sat upright on the sofa, waiting for my dismissal.

  It took me almost a minute to respond. I was prepared for hysterics. I was prepared for fainting. I wasn’t prepared for calm acceptance. I finally said, “Enjoy your drive. Be sure to dress warmly.”

  “Thank you, Mama.” She stood. “Perhaps you should have the wine,” she added and slipped from the room, Mrs. Jenkinson trailing after.

  I waved the servant with the wine over. While I sipped it, I contemplated Anne’s future. She didn’t seem to realize the precarious position Darcy had thrust her into.

  My brother had written that I should find Anne a husband. I hadn’t needed to worry about it before, since I was certain Darcy would eventually do his duty. How could I ever find Anne a husband with all of the fortune hunters that abounded in polite society?

  Even if a gentleman wasn’t a fortune hunter, Anne’s dowry was fifty thousand pounds and she would inherit Rosings. That was enough to tempt any man into taking her with little or no feeling for her. Any man, apparently, but Darcy. Instead, he’d been tempted by that conniving woman.

  I fumed for days and Anne behaved as if nothing had happened. I was baffled by her calm acceptance of her change in status. Mr. Collins and his wife returned to the parsonage and he returned to giving sermons. I invited them over for dinner and they both behaved as if nothing had changed as well. No one seemed to see how horribly Darcy had wronged my Anne. Not even her.

  As she didn’t seem to realize her circumstances had changed, Anne made no effort to move herself toward a married state. On rare occasion, we did have eligible male visitors, but she didn’t interact with them. She was nearly mute in the presence of anyone she didn’t know well, but spoke well enough with Mrs. Jenkinson and with me.

  It wasn’t until Christmas came and went that I realized it was up to me to do something. Anne would dwindle into an old maid and when both Anne and I were dead, Rosings would go to the next named person in my husband’s will, a cousin of Anne’s on the de Bourgh side. I refused to allow that eventuality to take place.

  I realized that Anne needed to get accustomed to company. Most of the time, I only invited the parson and his wife to Rosings, he being possessed of uncommonly good manners. Although Anne liked Mrs. Collins and even spoke to her a bit, it wasn’t enough. I sent out invitations to three local families. To my astonishment, two of them declined.

  When the one family which had accepted arrived, I realized my error in inviting them. They had an unmarried son of about twenty-five. All through dinner the young man tried to attach himself to Anne. That would never do. It wasn’t my intention to have Anne wed the son of a minor country gentleman with little fortune. The audacious young man even had the nerve to call the following day, with flowers. Needless to say, I made it clear to his family that he was not welcome back.

  The floodgates had been opened, however. It was as if the world suddenly realized Anne and her fortune were obtainable. Invitations began coming our way. Young men started showing up from all over England. Some were cousins or friends who “just happened” to be visiting. Of course, I knew why they were there and I was ready to keep the unworthy at bay.

  My first rule was that Anne could not be driven in a carriage alone with a man. That worked well for a while, until Mrs. Jenkinson came to me one afternoon and informed me that one of the more creative men had asked Anne to drive him. Since her low phaeton only held two, I was horrified to learn she’d accepted. After worrying me for two hours, they returned. I was relieved when I saw one of Rosings’ grooms riding a respectful distance behind them.

  The young man escorted Anne into the house and stayed for only a few minutes. After he left, I turned to Anne. “What were you thinking, allowing yourself to be alone with a gentleman in your phaeton? I’m just glad Mrs. Jenkinson had the presence of mind to send a groom after you.”

  Mrs. Jenkinson looked up from where she sat stitching and shook her head.

  “I ordered the groom to come, Mama,” Anne said. “I gave him a shilling.”

  “Why? It’s his job to do what you ask.” I didn’t know which was more surprising, that Anne had thought to have herself followed, or that she didn’t realize she could order the grooms about as she pleased.

  “I paid him so that he’ll look forward to these rides at least somewhat for my sake, not want to use them to cooperate with someone who wants me compromised,” she said.

  How did Anne get so cynical? I hadn’t realized she was aware that a gentleman would stoop to compromising a lady. I would have to ask Mrs. Jenkinson for a fresh list of whatever Anne had been reading. Some of it may not be appropriate. “That’s a good idea. Perhaps we should send two grooms and have them each given a shilling.”

  “If you wish, Mama,” Anne said. She settled herself on a sofa near Mrs. Jenkinson and began to read.

  I took a calming breath. It hadn’t been as bad as I’d first thought, nor was Anne as vulnerable as I’d worried. “Who was he?”

  “Mr. Owens.” She said it without looking up from her book.

  “Mr. Owens? He’s a worthy gentleman.” No, nowhere near as bad as I’d thought. Mr. Owens would be an acceptable match. “Did you enjoy driving him?”

  Anne shrugged, raising her book higher. I could tell she didn’t wish to discuss it. Could she truly be as indifferent as she seemed?

  The more I thought about it, the more I realized I wasn’t sure what to make of Anne driving a gentleman around. Had she agreed because she found that particular gentleman more pleasing than the others? It had become a normal thing for Anne to have constant callers, but it was difficult to tell if she cared for any of them. She was as silent with them as she was in any company. It was just as well of course. All of them were fortune hunters.

  The following day when I received a letter from Mr. Owens, I realized I needed to speak to Anne about him. Again, I decided I had to set the scene. This time I didn’t include Mrs. Jenkinson. Usually I ignored the servants, but I noticed Anne didn’t always
do so, so I sent them away as well. Once she was seated in a chair across from me, well lit so that I could carefully observe her, I began.

  “I received a request to court you from Mr. Owens. This was after you drove him in your phaeton yesterday. He said the two of you got along very well. Did you?”

  “He talked. I listened,” Anne replied.

  That was what Anne usually did. “Do you wish me to give him permission to court you? It is rather old fashioned for him to ask, but it shows an appropriate respect.”

  “No. He proposed. I refused.”

  That did not show the appropriate respect at all. How dare he write to me asking to court Anne when he’s already asked for her hand without consulting me? Still, he was worth a considerable sum. It didn’t do to turn away that amount of fortune lightly. “If you got to know him better, do you think you would want to marry him?”

  “No.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me Mr. Owens proposed to you?” Anne just sat there with upright posture as she had been taught. “Anne, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  That wasn’t helpful. A sudden thought occurred to me. “Who else has proposed to you?”

  “Mr. Greenwood, Mr. Hitchens, Mr. Lutton, and Mr. Bray,” Anne replied.

  She said it with so little expression that I was shocked. Five proposals in less than a month? I’d been an heiress as well when I made my come out and had felt I had considerable choice when I selected a husband. I’d enjoyed two seasons and had numerous chances to meet people. Yet, I’d only received four proposals in those two years. Of course, the difference must be that I’d made it clear to several men that I wasn’t interested. All Anne did was sit and listen. “What do you want in a husband? Some of those men were worth accepting.”