Bewitched, Body and Soul: Miss Elizabeth Bennet

by P. O. Dixon

  Bewitched, Body and Soul: Miss Elizabeth Bennet

  Copyright © 2012 P O Dixon

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, in whole or in part, in any form whatsoever.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters depicted in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Image Photo © Duncan Walker | istockphoto.com

  Dedicated with love to my beautiful daughter.

  “Well, my comfort is, I am sure Jane will die of a broken heart, and then he will be sorry for what he has done.”

  Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

  Chapter 1

  “Mind you, my dear, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. It is something to think of and gives her a sort of distinction amongst her companions,” Mr. Bennet teased as he fiddled with his gold pocket-watch. The middle-aged, silver-haired patriarch was far less inclined to fret over his eldest daughter’s sufferings as vigorously as did the women of Longbourn Village. For goodness sake, they were some of the silliest creatures in all of England! This latest calamity—marked by the lack of spirit shown by his first-born daughter Jane, the refusal on her part to take her meals with the family, and the general disregard of all that once mattered to her—had gone on long enough.

  “I dare say Jane is more than a little crossed,” said Mrs. Bennet, her annoyance obvious. “Why, the way Mr. Bingley and his party fled Netherfield Park on the heels of what I was sure would be a proposal of marriage to the poor girl, has rendered her a laughing stock in the neighbourhood.

  “I can imagine their jeers. ‘There goes poor Miss Bennet, with all her beauty, yet abandoned ... practically left waiting at the altar for Mr. Bingley.’

  “Oh, how shall she show her face again? I am afraid the dear girl is destined to a life of spinsterhood ... despite my good efforts to find a husband for her.”

  Mr. Bennet rubbed his brow. How nonsensical. With such a mother, it was no wonder his daughters were such frivolous creatures. He opened his mouth to make light of her sentiments as regarded the neighbours’ gossip when the door opened.

  If twenty-odd years of marriage had taught him anything, it was to welcome the sight of his second eldest, and by far, his favourite daughter whenever his wife went on in that way. Mr. Bennet silently applauded Elizabeth’s timely arrival.

  “A life of spinsterhood, Mama? Which of your five unfortunate daughters do you speak of now?”

  “I might as well be speaking of any of you, save Kitty and my Lydia. However, I speak at this moment of Jane. I dare say she did little, if anything, to encourage Mr. Bingley. The way he looked at her, I am sure it would not have taken much for him to propose marriage. This wretched situation brings to mind a similar event several years back when that delightful young man from town showed a keen interest in her. As I recall, he wrote her some lovely poetry—” Her voice trailed off as her face echoed a look of nostalgia.

  “Surely, Mama, you cannot blame Jane for Mr. Bingley’s lack of consideration. Jane loves him. I am sure of it. One needed only to spend time with her in his company to attest to that fact. Mr. Bingley is a fool not to perceive her true worth.”

  “A fool he may be, but it is hardly a consolation. Better a fool for a son-in-law, than no son-in-law at all.” Mrs. Bennet narrowed her eyes on her daughter. “And do not think for one moment that your rejection of Mr. Collins’s hand reflects kindly upon you, Miss Lizzy.”

  “Mrs. Bennet, I commend my Lizzy for rejecting Mr. Collins.”

  “Indeed. The two of you can take great comfort in going against my adamant wish that Lizzy should accept Mr. Collins. At the least, I might have seen one of my daughters settled by now. Alas, Lizzy, your so-called friend, Charlotte Lucas, put an end to that hope.”

  “Mama, you know I bear Charlotte no ill-will for having accepted Mr. Collins’s offer of marriage. Charlotte is practical. She merely acted in the best interests of her family.”

  “The best interests of her family you say. What of your own family? Are the Lucases more worthy than our family of the security afforded by a daughter well-settled, married to the heir of Longbourn, no less, owing to that ridiculous entail?”

  “My dear Mrs. Bennet, you shall not place the liability of our family’s fate at Lizzy’s feet.”

  “I should say not, Mr. Bennet. I am afraid the burden of finding suitable husbands for our daughters rests upon my shoulders alone. To have suffered the loss of not one but two future sons-in-law, I know not how I shall recover from such a misfortune.” The aggrieved mistress of the manor, whose countenance hinted of her former good looks, gathered her mending and stood to quit the room. “Take heed, Miss Lizzy, for you shall expect no help from me in securing another gentleman as your future husband. You are quite on your own in that regard.

  “I suggest you take my brother and sister up on their invitation to stay with them in town in Jane’s stead. Then you might stand a decent chance. I only wish my Lydia or even Kitty had such opportunity.”

  * * *

  Her dearest sister sat in the window seat with one hand pressed against the windowpane, absent-minded of the seeping chill of the January air. In the other hand, she clutched the post she had received weeks ago from Miss Caroline Bingley, the sister of her lost lover.

  Surely, she has committed every word to memory by now. How many weeks more might she carry on this way? Elizabeth had done her best to persuade her favourite sister that there had been a misunderstanding. Mr. Bingley loved her. Somehow, his pernicious sister had managed to poison his mind against Jane.

  “Jane, you must resist this urge to surrender yourself to the gloom and despair wrought by the constant perusal of Miss Bingley’s letter. The lies she expounded therein are not rendered as truth by subsequent reading, I assure you.”

  “Lizzy, I do not believe Miss Bingley lied. Without question, Mr. Bingley would prefer Miss Darcy to a penniless gentleman’s daughter. Why would he not be eager to return to town ... to her?”

  “Penniless? I dare say I have never heard you speak ill of our father’s fortune, or lack thereof. This smacks of bitterness. To give in to bitterness is to allow the likes of Miss Bingley to prevail.” She walked to her sister, sat in the window seat next to her, and reached for her hand.

  “Jane, Mr. Bingley conducted himself exactly as would a man in love whenever he was with you. Miss Bingley is the one who desires an alliance between her brother and Miss Darcy. She observed how he adored you. You are a threat to her grand plan for an alliance between the Bingleys and the Darcys. She did everything in her power to separate you two.”

  Answering such sentiments with silence, Jane refused her sister’s proffered hand.

  “I remember how you were dead set against returning to town with our Uncle and Aunt Gardiner after Christmas for a chance to meet Mr. Bingley and undo the damage caused by his sister. I pray you have changed your mind.” Elizabeth stroked her sister’s forearm. “Do you not believe it is worth fighting for the man you love?”

  Jane kept her angelic blue eyes, eyes laden with despair, trained out of the window, staring aimlessly. She clutched her arms in front of her chest.

  “Jane,” Elizabeth placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder, “come away from the window, dearest. Let us sit by the fire and decide what we might do to right this wrong. It pains me when you carry on so.”

  Jane shrank from Elizabeth’s touch. “Lizzy, please, leave it be! I refuse to chase after a man who subjected me to such ridicule and pain. I am afraid you are mistaken. He does not care for me.
How could he? He knows what he has done. Even if what you say is true, that his mind has been poisoned against me, if he should one day realise it and decide he indeed loves me, he knows where I am. He knows where to find me.”

  “Jane—”

  Jane placed her hands on her hips. Releasing an exasperated sigh, she raised her voice. “Hush, Lizzy, I beg of you. If you and I are to remain as the dearest of sisters, you must speak of this no more. I loved Mr. Bingley, and I love him until this day. I fear I may never love again, because I am sure I will never forget him. For now, it is all I can do to bear my mother’s disappointment, much less endure our neighbours’ scorn. I dare not show my face in Meryton. I certainly shall not travel to London.”

  Her sister returned her listless gaze to the stillness outside her window. “I wish only to be left alone.”

  Elizabeth honoured Jane’s request and stood to leave the room. She turned to study her sister before opening the door and sighed. Pulling the door closed, Elizabeth rested her head against it. This must not go on. I feel as though I no longer recognise my sister.

  Her eyebrow arched, she twisted her lower lip. If this is what it is like to be in love, may I never have the pleasure. Jane continues to walk around, clutching that venomous letter from Caroline Bingley. And to what end? She is making herself ridiculous. The guilt Elizabeth felt with that pronouncement caused her to consider that perhaps she was too hard on Jane. Her closest friend, Charlotte, had warned that Mr. Bingley might abandon his hopes if Jane did not do anything to encourage his tender regard. Jane’s character would never have allowed such a display of her true feelings.

  Perhaps I might take my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner up on their invitation to stay with them in town. I could surely benefit from a reprieve from Mama’s near constant chastisement on my refusal of Mr. Collins. Then, I might also find a way to uncover the cause of this misunderstanding with Mr. Bingley.

  Elizabeth collected herself and hurried down the stairs. She needed a long walk to sort things out. She donned her bonnet and cloak and set off on her favourite path. The farther she walked, the deeper the notion of venturing to town took root. So, too, did a measure of doubt creep into her thoughts.

  Her brow furrowed, she pursed her lips. What if I am wrong? What if I should learn that Mr. Bingley truly does not care for Jane? Elizabeth balked at the notion. She prided herself on being much too astute a studier of people not to recognise a man in love when she saw one.

  Undoubtedly, he cares. I am never mistaken about these things.

  * * *

  “Mary, I am depending upon you to watch over Jane. Do what you must in trying to divert her, to keep her spirits up. Do not allow her to wallow in grief and misery over the prospect of never again seeing Mr. Bingley.” Elizabeth busied herself with packing her things whilst Mary looked on.

  Her next eldest sister’s face teemed with scepticism, no doubt over the judiciousness of Elizabeth’s scheme. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words spouted forth.

  Quite determined, Elizabeth pretended not to notice. “I shall also look forward to hearing from you of what is happening here at Longbourn during my absence.”

  Mary cleared her throat. “Lizzy, I applaud your generosity and selflessness as regards our sister’s well-being, but I am afraid I do not approve of your tactics. Must I remind you of the results the last time you tossed propriety to the wind by traipsing about the countryside in your desire to attend Jane after she fell ill at Netherfield Park, casting all semblance of decorum aside? Although I had no luck in persuading you against your purposes then, I believe I owe it to my own sense of modesty to try again to compel you to consider the folly of your plan.

  “In my opinion, the course you are set upon is guided less by reason and prudence than by a desire to manipulate events best left to others.”

  Elizabeth halted her packing and sat on the bed beside her sister. “Mary, what harm could come as a result of my plans? If I am to be in town anyway, as I already have an acquaintance with Miss Bingley, surely I risk nothing in calling on her. Just imagine how happy Jane will be once this misunderstanding is resolved. However, you must not say a word of my plans to anyone. This must be our secret, just in case things do not go as intended; there is no need to increase Jane’s hopes.”

  “Lizzy, I long for the recovery of Jane’s spirits as much as you, but surely your absence will cause her even greater disappointment. She loves you. What is more, she depends upon you.”

  “You are correct. I love her, and you know I would do anything in the world to see her happy, which is why I must do everything in my power to reunite her with the man she loves.”

  “And if, indeed, Mr. Bingley’s actions speak to his true intentions, then what?”

  “Oh, Mary, Mr. Bingley loves her. However, on the chance that he does not, it is even more imperative to keep my undertaking a secret. This way, no one shall be disappointed … no one except me.”

  “My sentiments exactly—disappointed and perhaps embarrassed. Take care that you do not make a spectacle of yourself.” Mary adjusted her glasses. “I need not remind you how tender a thing is a woman’s reputation—how once lost, is nearly impossible to recover.”

  Elizabeth had given greater consideration to Mary’s words than she had allowed. Alone in her room, she completed her packing and sat on the bed beside her luggage. She knew what she was about. She planned to find out for herself if there was an attachment between Mr. Bingley and Miss Darcy, or if this was a ruse on Miss Bingley’s part.

  If it is indeed true, if there is an attachment, no one will be disappointed any more than already, and the only risk of harm is the damage to my ego.

  Elizabeth stood and took a final look around the room. She decided it was worth the risk. She must speak to Mr. Bingley directly. Somehow, even if it meant calling on her least favourite person in the world, she planned to make her presence in town known and find a way to be in Mr. Bingley’s company.

  Jane needs me. I shall not let her down.

  Chapter 2

  Darcy stretched his arms over his head, and then gripped his broad shoulder and worked out his tightened muscles. He questioned the wisdom of arriving in town to his London home earlier than scheduled. Despite his frequent and lengthy absences, he had expected the presence of more staff. He had notified his butler of his plans to return the following week. Perhaps that had been the problem. However, he was there now, and much needed to be done to make the place habitable for the evening. There would be time enough to address his London household staffing shortfalls later. Determined, Darcy and his valet made do by taking up the task of preparing the fires and lighting the rooms.

  He had spent the past few weeks at the country estate of his friend, Lord Trevor Helmsley, the Earl of Latham. Darcy reflected upon the purpose of his friend’s invitation to spend time at his home before the start of the Season, or rather the irony. Imagine his luck. Two of his closest friends both had single sisters, and both young ladies had set their sights upon marriage—to him. There the similarity ended. The two young ladies were as different as night and day. One, Lady Gwendolen, was an accomplished young woman whose aristocratic roots marked her entire being, and whose kindness outshone her beauty and grace. The other, Caroline, was a ridiculous social climber whose sole redeeming quality was her relationship to Charles Bingley.

  The manner in which Darcy had gone out of his way in pretending not to notice Lady Gwendolen over the past weeks had not ranked amongst his finest moments. The last thing he wanted was to encourage her expectations. The seven years since he had first met her had done much in transforming her from the shy girl, who scarcely uttered a word in his presence, to the beautiful, blossoming young woman she had become. The upcoming Season would be her third. Darcy wondered why no man had requested her hand in marriage.

  On the other hand, perhaps someone has. Indeed, she is holding out for someone. Holding out for me ... her brother insinuated as much. What a shame to give up any immed
iate chances for happiness on the hope of something that might never be.

  Darcy shook his head, walked to his liquor cabinet, and prepared himself a drink. He savoured the smooth drink as it slid down his throat.

  On the other hand, as regards Caroline, even with her twenty thousand pounds, I would be surprised if anyone has requested her hand in marriage. She would be wise to accept any offer she gets rather than waste her time fawning over me.

  The vicious manner in which she had disparaged the Bennet women in Hertfordshire, saying they would be hard-pressed to find suitable husbands, was deplorable.

  Moreover, think how I agreed with her, dare say even encouraged her, in a foolish attempt to disguise my inexplicable attraction to Elizabeth.

  Miss Elizabeth Bennet. A woman who walked three miles to a neighbouring estate, arriving unescorted and with her hem six inches deep in mud. She is unlike any other woman of my acquaintance, to say the least. I do not imagine Caroline doing such a thing. Lady Gwendolen, however ... she might. He called to mind accounts from his friend, Lord Latham, of how his young sister tossed such formalities as always being in the company of an escort aside, when in the country. Darcy also recalled saying several times how he would not wish for his own sister to behave so.

  His sister, Georgiana, had suffered many trials of late. He had allowed her to travel to Ramsgate with a Mrs. Younge, her former companion. There, she had been followed and nearly ruined by his nemesis, George Wickham. He was thankful that she had come to grips with what had happened in Ramsgate and had accepted his account that George Wickham truly did not love her, but had tried to persuade her to marry him as a means of getting her fortune of thirty thousand pounds. His motive—revenge.

  What a hard lesson for a young girl of fifteen to learn. Darcy took some comfort in his belief that his sister had got over the worst of it.