Courting Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  “Six, to be precise,” Miss de Bourgh replied, guiding the horses down the lane.

  There was little additional talk as they continued to where Miss de Bourgh had found Elizabeth. She alighted and the maid took her seat. As they drove off, Elizabeth could see Miss de Bourgh turning toward the young woman, issuing instructions. The maid nodded animatedly.

  Elizabeth returned to the Hunsford parsonage with mixed feelings. At first, she worried over having agreed to Miss de Bourgh’s fantastic proposal, but she had, and so pressed doubts from her mind as best she could. All that accomplished was to open space for thoughts of the five thousand pounds Miss de Bourgh had offered her.

  The idea of not having to worry about poverty if her father died was comforting, but accepting felt wrong to Elizabeth. It seemed almost immoral to receive so much money for agreeing to see more of Mr. Darcy, even given what had recently passed between them. It wasn’t as if his company was entirely unpleasant, after all. So long as he managed not to belittle her or her family, she was sure they could put up a front of getting along. Or, at least, she hoped they could.

  Chapter Three

  Darcy rode for quite some time after the meeting in the clearing. He knew it was best if no one thought he and Anne were returning together, but was spurred by more than simple caution. He needed solitude to clear his head. As his roan traversed sunny lanes and open meadows, Darcy’s mind roamed over Elizabeth.

  Somehow, in the wake of her refusal, she was even more lovely than ever. The softening of her tone, when she’d apologized for believing Wickham, had tortured Darcy. At the same time, her continued avowal she would never wed him lashed his already tattered heart and pride. In the wake of these conflicting emotions, he could only regard with shock his agreement to be a part of Anne’s scheme. If not for Georgiana . . .

  Darcy shook his head. No, he would not lie to himself, at least. In the end, it wasn’t consideration of Anne or of Georgiana that drove him to become involved in subterfuge. It was Elizabeth.

  He frowned at the blossom bedecked meadow before him. How had he permitted this to happen? He abhorred trickery and stratagems. He was a Darcy. A Darcy stated the truth, gave reasonable orders, and expected the world to adjust accordingly.

  Yet, Elizabeth hadn’t behaved accordingly. She’d rejected his proposal. He’d told the truth to no avail. He wasn’t fool enough to think reasonable orders would work where truth had failed. He wanted her, this slip of a woman who would defy him, decline him, and bristle at Anne’s offer of thousands of pounds. More than wanting her, he loved her. He, who’d never felt such a stirring for any other female, was in love with Elizabeth Bennet.

  Darcy grimaced at the fickleness of fate. That he should desire a woman who would refuse him was absurd. Over half of his life had been spent evading the clutching creatures.

  Now, instead of evading, he was pursuing. He was humbling himself and offending his sense of honor by engaging in a scheme. He hadn’t even argued against it. His mind befuddled by lack of sleep, the emotions spewed forth in his uncharacteristic argument with his aunt, and pining for Elizabeth, he’d readily agreed. He hadn’t seen reason or propriety. All he’d seen was a chance to woo the woman he loved.

  His only hope, the thing that would mend his honor, was to win her. If he accomplished that, it wouldn’t be a scheme he’d embarked on. It would all be the truth. In the strictest sense, it already was. He’d asked Elizabeth to wed him and declined to hear her answer for two months. She, in turn, had agreed to spend more time with him.

  Darcy shook his head, turning his roan back toward Rosings. It was a fine line he’d set himself to walk. He hoped his honor could survive the upcoming weeks, for he doubted his sanity, or his heart, would.

  As he drew near his aunt’s imposing dwelling, Darcy sternly turned his thoughts toward implementing what he’d agreed to. After all, if the thing must be done, it was best done well. To that end, he decided the correct way to handle his aunt was not to permit her to issue her threat to Georgiana before he announced the situation he, Anne and Elizabeth had contrived. He was glad he’d left that morning before Lady Catherine thought of the threat, and that Anne delivered her note to him via his own groom. His second proposal to Elizabeth would seem sincerer if it didn’t come in the wake of Lady Catherine’s ultimatum.

  Upon entering Rosings, he went to find Lady Catherine. She was in her favorite parlor, one where only her chair had any pretense of comfort and the lighting was never sufficient for anyone to read, leaving them at the mercy of her conversation. Deep red fabrics with garish gold tufting abounded, entrenched in dark wood and set on a carpet so deeply woven it seemed to suck at a person’s feet, especially if they attempted to leave. His cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, was there, as were Anne and her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson. Darcy considered this ideal, for their plan would work better with an audience.

  “Darcy, where have you been?” Lady Catherine asked as he entered the room, her tone even more querulous than usual.

  “Aunt Catherine,” he said, bowing. “Anne, Mrs. Jenkinson, Richard. I’ve been out riding.”

  “Wish I’d thought of that,” Richard muttered.

  “Well, you took your time with it, didn’t you?” His aunt glared at him, looking for all the world like the insulted party in their morning’s argument, not the offender. “If you felt you had to go out, you should have had the decency to return in a reasonable time.”

  “I did not return sooner because I required time to organize my thoughts.” Darcy caught the flicker of worry on Anne’s face and realized she was afraid he’d changed his mind. Annoyance touched him. For all he’d permitted himself to be drawn into her game with her mother against his better judgement, he wasn’t low enough to go back on his word. What did she take him for?

  “They were in dire need of organizing, to be sure,” Lady Catherine said, somehow looking down her nose at him even though he stood while she sat. “I trust you have them in better arrangement now.”

  He didn’t avail himself of a chair, but instead crossed the room to stand before his aunt. “I do. Much better. While I still object to your unreasonable behavior in entering my room and reading a letter I was writing, I am pleased to say some good came of it.”

  “Aunt Catherine.” Richard shook his head, looking disappointed. “That wasn’t well done of you. A man’s letters are his own business.”

  Lady Catherine sat straighter in her chair. “What takes place in Rosings is my business.”

  Richard shook his head again, but turned back to Darcy. “You were saying, Darcy?”

  “I was saying that some good came from Aunt Catherine’s snooping. While I was out this morning, driven forth by my anger at being misused, I met Miss Bennet. She now has full knowledge of what the letter contained.”

  Richard frowned, likely wondering what Darcy’s letter had to do with Miss Bennet, but he showed no inclination to pry. Lady Catherine opened her mouth to speak.

  Darcy didn’t let her, pushing ahead. “She apologized for misjudging me and I proposed, telling her she need not give an answer immediately. We agreed to spend two months to get to know each other better. Then she will answer my proposal.”

  “This is outrageous.” Lady Catherine’s screeching tone set Darcy’s teeth on edge. “You are going to marry Anne.”

  “I am not. I hope to marry Miss Bennet. I am honor bound to her for two months or until she gives me an answer.” Darcy closed his mouth, wishing he hadn’t added the qualifier. Lady Catherine would have thought of trying to influence Elizabeth on her own, but that didn’t mean he needed to plant the notion.

  “I say, Darcy, that was bold of you, proposing to the girl,” Richard said. Standing, he crossed and offered his hand. “Good luck with the chase. She’s a fine specimen.”

  “Thank you,” Darcy said, returning his cousin’s handclasp. His eyes went to Anne and she gave a slight shake of her head. It seemed no one had told Richard that Darcy already proposed to Elizabeth
once.

  His aunt’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You wish to marry Miss Bennet even after she believed scandalous falsehoods about you? Don’t you see the folly in that? You want a wife who will be loyal to you, not a stupid chit who believes every rumor that comes by her.”

  Darcy struggled with the anger that rose in him, seeking calm, but finding little.

  “I wouldn’t be loyal to him,” Anne said. Her voice was small, but it carried in the stillness left by Lady Catherine’s words.

  Lady Catherine whipped her head toward her daughter. Richard grimaced. Giving Darcy a parting slap on the shoulder, he returned to his seat.

  “Be quiet,” Lady Catherine snapped at Anne. “Can’t you see I have your best interests at heart?”

  “No, I cannot. I don’t think you know what my best interests even are,” Anne said.

  Seated beside Anne on the settee, Mrs. Jenkinson was managing to make herself impressively inconspicuous, her eyes on a needlepoint ring she wasn’t truly employing. Darcy had long since noticed her engagement in such activities, while in the red and gold parlor, was a ruse. There wasn’t enough light for needlepoint.

  “I know better than you do.” Lady Catherine glared at Anne. “What do you know of the world? Who but Darcy would marry you for any reason other than your money?”

  Angered for Anne this time, Darcy felt his composure ebbing. “There are plenty of men who would love Anne.”

  “See?” Lady Catherine looked from Darcy to Anne, her expression smug enough to try Darcy’s slipping patience. “He must love you to defend you so promptly.”

  “He loves me as a cousin,” Anne said, but her tone was meek.

  “I do,” Darcy affirmed before his aunt could speak. He drew in a slow breath. Few could so readily find chinks in his cool facade the way Lady Catherine did.

  “As do I,” said Richard. He leaned forward, his strong features arranged in an earnest expression. “I think that Anne would—”

  “No one cares what you think,” Lady Catherine snapped, not even looking at Richard. “Darcy, if you and Anne don’t marry by the end of the month, I will publicize that Georgiana is compromised. She nearly eloped with the son of your father’s steward. Do you think the ton will take such lewd behavior lightly? She will never make a good match, even with her connections.”

  Darcy had expected he would need to feign shock, but he didn’t. He realized, in spite of Anne’s report of her mother’s ultimatum, he’d not truly believed Lady Catherine would have so little regard for Georgiana. He searched his aunt’s face for some hint it was an idle threat, but found none. Lady Catherine, he was sure, would carry through on it.

  “Aunt Catherine,” Richard barked, his voice that of the colonel he was, not the easy-going gentleman he usually portrayed while in Rosings, who was an asset to any drawing room. “How can you even threaten such a thing? And Darcy, how could you let her know about it?”

  Darcy resisted the urge to scowl, composing himself into an easy stance as he turned to Richard. “I did not tell our aunt about Georgiana. The information was contained in the letter Aunt Catherine appropriated from my desk.”

  “Which was intended for Miss Bennet?” Richard asked, his frown deepening. “What purpose could possibly drive you to share such sensitive knowledge? Obviously you care for the girl, but that hardly explains it.”

  Darcy grimaced, finding the condemnation in Richard’s tone fair. Not wishing to share Georgiana’s secret had been one of his main quibbles with the letter, one of the reasons he’d gone for a walk instead of sealing it. Taking in Richard’s hard look, Darcy realized he would have to divulge his humiliation to his cousin. “Today wasn’t the first time I proposed to Miss Bennet. I did yesterday as well, and was rejected.”

  Surprise registered on Richard’s face.

  “While she was declining, it came to light that Mr. Wickham had poisoned her mind against me with his lies,” Darcy continued. He swallowed, still feeling the sting of her rejection and the mixture of anger and pain it evoked. “It was my feeling Miss Bennet should know the truth about him. I was confident she would keep it confidential.” He swung back to glare at Lady Catherine. “I did not imagine my own aunt would come into my room, read a letter I wrote, and threaten to tell the world of it.”

  “I see. That makes things a sight clearer.” Richard drummed his fingers on the dark wood of his chair arm. He turned to their aunt. “Aunt Catherine, if the information about Georgiana and Mr. Wickham comes out through you, I will never visit you again. I am co-guardian with Darcy and equally responsible for her. I will never forgive you if you take such a pointless, vindictive action.”

  Darcy took in the slight widening of his aunt’s eyes. He could see Richard’s threat carried weight. Richard was closer with their aunt than Darcy was. He visited more often and made himself more amiable to Lady Catherine’s conversation, adding liveliness to a home sorely in need of it. She would miss Richard if he never returned.

  “Furthermore, Darcy has already made the proposal,” Richard said. “He is honor bound to await Miss Bennet’s answer. Would you like him to sully the Darcy name by backing out now?”

  Lady Catherine pursed her lips, glaring at Darcy. It amused Darcy to note that, while his aunt didn’t care about dragging Georgiana’s name through the mud, she did care about the Darcy name. He wondered which the distinction spoke worse of, his aunt for making it, or the society they lived in for treating young women like commodities to be traded.

  “Mother.” Anne’s voice was nearly a whisper. “You must come to terms with this. Darcy will be marrying Miss Bennet, not me.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Lady Catherine snapped, finding her voice. “Darcy, Miss Bennet is unworthy of you. I can prove it to you.”

  “What good will that do?” Richard asked. “If she accepts him, he is honor bound to marry her.”

  “She refused him once, witless minx. If he shows he no longer loves her, she will refuse him again.”

  “I do love her,” Darcy said. “And you would do well to keep that in mind and modulate how you speak of the woman who will be my wife.”

  “You are blinded by her dubious charms.” Lady Catherine gave no indication she’d heard his reprimand. “Once you see her in a greater variety of situations, you would see how beneath you she is. I will help you get to know her better, for in knowing someone as low as she, you must come to disdain her.”

  Darcy took a moment to compose his answer, removing the heat from it. “If you wish to assist me in coming to know Miss Bennet better, I welcome your help, Aunt.”

  “Of course you do. I shall begin at once.”

  “Thank you,” Darcy said. He executed a stiff bow. “If you will all excuse me? I believe we have concluded this discussion.”

  Not waiting for their adieus, or his aunt’s inevitable disapproval of his hasty departure, Darcy strode from the stuffy room. Long strides carried him through opulent halls to his quarters. He closed the door quietly behind him and dismissed his valet. He needed a moment alone to bring his anger under control. His aunt’s unreasonableness, vindictiveness and continued insults of Elizabeth had eaten away at his typical calm.

  As his mind settled, Darcy could appreciate that things had gone well. His aunt hadn’t said as much, but she seemed to have dropped her threat of exposing Georgiana’s secret, at least while he was bound by his proposal to Elizabeth. She’d also agreed to help him come to know Elizabeth better, something Darcy hadn’t anticipated and was pleased with. Even though he was sure his aunt’s attempts to sabotage his relationship with Elizabeth weren’t spent, for now things appeared to be moving in his favor. Darcy smiled, relaxing. Though she may think it a ruse, he was going to enjoy courting Elizabeth.

  Chapter Four

  Elizabeth added another careful annotation to the recipe card she was writing out. She, Charlotte and Maria were seated in the austere, yet sunny, parsonage parlor. Maria Lucas was curled into a chair in the corner reading, while Elizab
eth and Charlotte sat at a table carefully transcribing recipes that were in danger of fading into complete illegibility. It was an activity that occupied both mind and hands, permitting little conversation.

  This pleased Elizabeth, for she was still trying to sort through the turmoil of recent events. The ordering of her thoughts was not helped by her nerves. The warm afternoon light streaming in through the windows assured her that Mr. Darcy and Miss de Bourgh must have returned to Rosings long since. Elizabeth expected an irate Lady Catherine to storm into the parlor at any moment.

  At the sound of rapid footfalls without, Elizabeth drew in a steadying breath and carefully set aside her pen. She turned toward the door, composing herself. She’d agreed to a sham of a courtship with Mr. Darcy. She would face the wrath it was sure to bring. Across from her, Charlotte too set aside her work. In the corner behind Charlotte, Maria lowered her book, peering over the top.

  Instead of a red-faced Lady Catherine, a beaming Mr. Collins hurried into the room. “We have been invited to dinner again at Rosings,” he cried, gesticulating widely. “Cousin Elizabeth, isn’t it wonderful that you have the opportunity to see Lady Catherine again? You must have pleased her in some way for her to extend so generous an invitation. I am very glad I thought to have you here, to delight her.”

  “Yes, it was most well-done of you to provide your patroness with such agreeable entertainment as myself,” Elizabeth said.

  Under the cover of the table, Charlotte kicked Elizabeth’s shin. Maria’s faint giggle drifted across the room.

  Elizabeth didn’t have to pretend not to notice giggle or reprimand. Her mind was too full to linger on them. She’d expected to be banned from Rosings, at the very least, or at the worst, that Lady Catherine would demand Mr. and Mrs. Collins send her away. It was impossible Lady Catherine could find Elizabeth’s courtship by Mr. Darcy acceptable. Had he and Miss de Bourgh not informed her yet? Or, perhaps, they had changed their minds and intended to marry after all.