Courting Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  “But it seemed that he was listening for Elizabeth,” Maria said.

  “Maria.”

  Elizabeth used selecting her breakfast as an excuse to present her back, hiding her smile. Charlotte sounded exactly like Lady Lucas when she was angry. “Whatever his reasons, I’m pleased to breakfast with both of you.”

  In spite of her words, which she’d meant, Elizabeth found herself hurrying through her meal. She was looking forward to speaking candidly with Mr. Darcy on the previous evening’s events. She wondered if she would have the courage to ask him what he suspected the young man she’d originally been meant to sit beside had been ordered to do. She had her suspicions, and none of them were appropriate avenues for conversation, pretend courtship or not.

  As soon as she could without seeming rude, Elizabeth excused herself. Mr. Collins still hadn’t returned, so she counted her morning triply blessed. She’d spent time with Charlotte, hadn’t been made to endure her cousin, and would now meet Mr. Darcy.

  Making her way outside, Elizabeth found the air was already warm enough she was glad she had worn short sleeves. She set a brisk pace across the parsonage lawn, turning down her favorite lane, where Mr. Darcy would be sure to find her. Her skirt swished against the taller grass alongside the road. All about her, the trees reaching out to offer dappled shade were alive with songbirds. Elizabeth couldn’t imagine a lovelier day.

  The sound of carriage wheels grew behind her, but Elizabeth didn’t look back. It was uncommon for a horse drawn conveyance of one type or another to pass that way so early, but not unheard of. She moved deeper into the tall grass along the path to ensure she wasn’t obstructing the road.

  It wasn’t until the vehicle slowed beside her that she realized it might be Mr. Darcy. She turned, smiling, and stopped. It was Lady Catherine’s carriage, and it stopped as well. The curtain was pulled back and Lady Catherine peered out. Elizabeth’s smile disappeared.

  “You, Miss Bennet, get in.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the harsh tone. “No, thank you,” she said, and resumed walking.

  The carriage creaked forward, keeping pace.

  “I said, get in, you insolent hoyden.”

  Elizabeth shook her head, not looking or halting. If Lady Catherine had asked politely to begin with, she may have accepted. She was not going to obey such rude, impertinent commands, though. The angry tone, combined with Lady Catherine’s attempts to humiliate her the evening before, made Elizabeth too distrustful to get into the carriage.

  “I will not be disobeyed. Especially not by the likes of you.”

  Elizabeth continued to ignore her. She was coming up on a smaller path. If Lady Catherine wouldn’t drive on, Elizabeth would take another trail. The carriage wouldn’t be able to follow her down so narrow a passage, and she doubted the lady would get out and walk. Hopefully Mr. Darcy would still be able to find her, as it wouldn’t be her usual route.

  “Your previous impertinence forewarned me you would behave in this insolent fashion,” Lady Catherine declared, her tone strident. “James, John, as I ordered.”

  Elizabeth glanced toward the carriage in time to see the two footmen standing on the back jump down. She halted, momentarily too incredulous to believe they were coming toward her. Her shock lasted only an instant. She turned and started running.

  Elizabeth put forth her best effort, but her skirts encumbered her. Still, it took the footmen, James and John, several yards to catch her. One grabbed her about the shoulders. She struggled and writhed, calling out for help, but his arms encircled her like iron bands around a barrel.

  The second tried to grab her legs, presumably to hoist her off the ground. Elizabeth kicked as hard as she could, scoring at least one good hit to his face and another to his chest. Eventually, though, he caught her up. They suspended her between them, lumbering back toward the carriage, which she could hear rolling nearer. The one who had her feet, who she thought might be John the wine-spiller from the evening before, was sweating and sported a reddened eye.

  Elizabeth writhed in their grasp, still calling out. Something loomed to the side. She twisted to see the carriage. Muttering oaths, the footman holding her about the shoulders pulled open the door. Unceremoniously, they stuffed her in. She launched herself toward freedom, grabbing for the handle, but found the door wouldn’t budge. She pounded on it, yelling for help. The carriage dipped, likely the footmen climbing back up, and then set off at a rapidly increasing pace. Gasping to catch her breath, Elizabeth fell silent.

  “Have the sense to get off the floor, girl.” Lady Catherine glared at her, holding her skirts away from Elizabeth as if they might be contaminated by touching her. “And don’t bother with the doors. Even if you get one open, jumping at this speed would break your neck.”

  Elizabeth was still breathing hard. Unclenching her fists, she pushed her hair, most of it pulled loose, from her face. She glared up at her abductor. “You kidnapped me.” She couldn’t believe Lady Catherine would sink so low.

  “No, you got in willingly, as my footmen and driver will tell anyone.”

  Elizabeth pulled herself into the seat across from Lady Catherine and slid over to the window. She didn’t try the door again, for she could tell they were moving quite quickly. She did pull back the curtain, though, fixing her eyes on her surroundings. Unlike when she’d ridden with Miss de Bourgh, this time Elizabeth would make sure she knew where she was taken.

  While she watched trees speed by, she worked to master her breath. She was more frightened than she would like to admit. Kidnapping was a serious offense, showing a terrifying desperation on Lady Catherine’s part. She was obviously willing to risk persecution to be rid of Elizabeth. If she would kidnap, what other laws was she willing to break?

  Elizabeth clenched her teeth over fear and anger. Lady Catherine wouldn’t be worried about facing the repercussions of her actions. She would know no one would take Elizabeth’s word over hers and her servants. There was no reason to imagine she planned anything worse. The woman wasn’t mad. At least, Elizabeth hoped she wasn’t.

  “Why have you kidnapped me?” Elizabeth didn’t take her eyes from the window.

  “As I said, you got in willingly.”

  Elizabeth resisted the urge to shout at the infuriating woman.

  “You will give up Darcy,” Lady Catherine said, her tone as imperious as ever. “You will tell him you can never marry him. This time, be firm. It’s obvious you made a mess of turning him down the first time.”

  Elizabeth gave a short bark of laughter. Maybe the woman was insane after all. “Even if I give him up, that does not mean he will marry Miss de Bourgh. Your daughter and I are not his only choices.”

  “I will attend to Darcy.” Elizabeth could hear a rustle of fabric as Lady Catherine shifted in her seat. “Look at me when I speak to you, girl.”

  “I’m noting the way. You kidnapped me. I won’t be abandoned in some remote location, unable to find my way back.”

  “Don’t be a fool. I’m not going to leave you somewhere and have you try to lay blame on me for whatever ills befall you. Especially not when anything befalling you will be deserved, and the result of your own stupidity.”

  “I see your manners haven’t deserted you,” Elizabeth snapped, her voice sharp with sarcasm.

  “You will not speak to me in that impertinent tone, girl.”

  “I will speak to you any way I please.” Elizabeth pulled her eyes from the window to cast Lady Catherine a quick, baleful glare, but returned them to the landscape outside the carriage almost immediately. “You are the one who shed civility.”

  There was huffing from the other seat, but Elizabeth ignored it. She kept her eyes on their course. The carriage wasn’t showing any sign of slowing down.

  “If you must know, I am taking you to the Bird in Hand Inn. You will get on the stage there and go to London. When you get to London, my agent will meet the stage and give you money for cab fare to go to your relatives, along with fift
y pounds to make it worth your while never to speak to Darcy again.”

  “You intend for me to go to London? Has it not occurred to you that I’ll be missed?” Elizabeth decided not to dignify the offer of fifty pounds by acknowledging it.

  “Later today, when you’re too far away for him to follow, I will tell Darcy you realized you can never love him. You were so eager to go, you came to me and begged for a ride. Mr. Collins will inform his wife of the entire incident upon my return. She and her sister will have your things packed before you reach London. I’ll see they’re sent on to your relatives.”

  “I see you have every detail accounted for.” Elizabeth pursed her lips, her mind churning. Knowing Lady Catherine’s plan, she no longer felt much fear, but she was still deeply angered. She would not let Lady Catherine have her way.

  “Of course I have everything figured out,” Lady Catherine snapped. “I’m not a fool, and don’t even think of walking back. It’s nine miles.”

  Elizabeth didn’t reply, for walking back was exactly what she was considering. Knowing the distance didn’t deter her. Nine miles wasn’t that far. She was strong. She could walk it in three hours.

  “Well, girl?”

  She ignored that. The carriage slowed, soon reaching a speed where Elizabeth might be able to jump without harming herself, assuming she could get the doors open. From her attempt earlier, she guessed the footmen had wedged them closed in some way. Without knowing what they’d done and having no tools, there seemed little sense in wasting energy trying to escape. It appeared, for the moment, Elizabeth was trapped.

  She was not thwarted, however, though she still worried to what lengths Lady Catherine was prepared to go. Pondering the situation, Elizabeth realized her biggest obstacle was to appear to acquiesce so Lady Catherine would leave her alone. Left unobserved, she could embark on the journey back.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “Not really,” Elizabeth muttered, not considering ‘well girl’ to be much of a question.

  “Speak up, girl.”

  “How do I know, once I’m in London, your agent will be there?” Elizabeth hoped questions would convince Lady Catherine she’d won. “Or that he’ll turn over the money instead of keeping it?”

  “He wouldn’t dare defy me.”

  Elizabeth could hear the satisfaction in Lady Catherine’s voice and cast her a quick glance. “Why can’t your agent simply drive me to my relatives?”

  “Stupid girl. He handles my money. He’s not a coachman, but he’ll be there. I sent him an express this morning, since he needed time to get the money. I knew it would only take a little pressure to persuade you to give up Darcy.”

  Elizabeth concentrated on memorizing the route still, but she lowered her shoulders, slouching back in the seat. She wanted to portray someone who’d given up. It was too bad Lady Catherine’s agent would probably tell whatever story Lady Catherine told him to. Still, it might not hurt to find out more about him, in case she ever needed to find him. “How will I know him? I’m not approaching random men waiting at the coach stand in London. What’s his name? What does he look like?”

  After naming and describing her agent, Lady Catherine launched into a tirade, her voice so smug Elizabeth wanted to throw something at her. The subject was Elizabeth and her failings. Lady Catherine went on at length about how insignificant Elizabeth was, and how unworthy of Mr. Darcy. At some points, Elizabeth recognized an embellished version of Darcy’s letter as Lady Catherine dredged up some of the complaints about her family. Most of the rant, however, concentrated on Elizabeth’s unladylike behavior in taking long walks alone with either Darcy or Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  Try as she might, Elizabeth had to hear most of what was said to her. She didn’t respond, working to give no reaction at all and to appear utterly defeated. For a time, she was able to distract herself with daydreams about setting the authorities on Lady Catherine for kidnapping, but knew there was little help for her there. Not when it was her word against Lady Catherine’s.

  Finally, they slowed to a walk, entering a small town. The carriage pulled up before the Bird in Hand Inn. It bounced as at least one of the footmen got down. Elizabeth could hear something being done to the doors. Lady Catherine stuck her head out her window, ordering someone off her side. Elizabeth’s door was yanked open. The footman she thought was John stood there, his wounded face a mask, his eyes straight ahead.

  “Get out,” Lady Catherine snapped.

  Elizabeth did, not surprised the footman didn’t offer any assistance, and not wishing him to. As soon as she took a step away, the door shut behind her. The footman scrambled up. Elizabeth didn’t turn around when the carriage rattled away, stirring up a cloud of dust. It settled about her, clinging to her already dirty skirt. She blinked dust from her eyes.

  A small man came down the inn steps toward her. “Miss, I am so sorry for the dust. You’ll probably be more comfortable in the taproom. The sun getting hot and you don’t have a hat.”

  Elizabeth hadn’t realized her hat was lost until that moment. Thinking about it, she realized it must have come off during her struggle with the footmen, before she got into the carriage. She reached up, touching her hair. It felt a mess. She could only imagine how she looked, or how people in the taproom would view her. “I’m not comfortable going into the taproom,” she said, meaning it. “I’ll find a place in the shade.”

  The man squinted up at the sun. “But the stage isn’t due for an hour and a half. It’s sometimes early, but I’m not standing about out here for that long.” He twined his hands together, looking nervously after Lady Catherine’s fast dwindling carriage. “I’m to give your ticket to the driver when you board.”

  “Why don’t you go to the taproom?” Elizabeth gave him a reassuring smile, taking in the small town with a quick glance. She made a vague gesture toward a grove of trees. “I’ll be happier out here.” Much happier. By the time the stage arrived, she hoped to be halfway back to the parsonage. Realizing he might look for her, she added, “I might look into sitting in the church or just walking around the town.” Or I might not, she amended to herself.

  “I suppose that will do well enough,” he said, looking back toward the inn longingly. “You should be able to see the stage from anywhere on the main street, so keep to it. You’ll have the time it takes for them to change the horses to get back here, but they are very quick.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She headed toward the trees, which were in the same direction as the road she wished to take. Clouds were gathering, but they weren’t thick enough to hide the location of the sun, and there was plenty of time to make the journey. She glanced back to see the man entering the tavern. Squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth lengthened her stride.

  Chapter Six

  Darcy didn’t join the others in the parlor for breakfast, not wishing to ruin a perfectly fine morning by listening to his aunt. He had his valet bring him up a light meal. Sipping his coffee, he dressed with greater care than usual. At one point, he realized he was humming and stopped, hoping none of the servants had taken note. A Darcy did not go about humming. He must be careful or the next thing he knew, he’d descend into something so vulgar as whistling.

  After one last look in the mirror, something else he hoped wasn’t noted, he quit his room and then, the house. Employing a lively pace, he soon found himself on Elizabeth’s favorite trail. Giving in to the humming, for he was alone, he set out to find her. Anticipation built at each turn, only to go unrewarded. By the time he reached the end of where she usually walked, Darcy’s mood darkened to one of concern.

  Unsure how he could have missed her, he headed back. His eyes scanning the forests, fields and hedges, he returned not to Rosings, but to the parsonage. Still, he saw no sign of Elizabeth.

  A knock on the parsonage door was rewarded by a maid. “Is Miss Bennet in?” Darcy asked. The girl cringed slightly, taking a step back, and Darcy realized his tone was overly harsh. “Or Mrs. Collins.”
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  “I’ll inquire, sir.” The girl scurried away.

  She hadn’t asked him in, but she hadn’t shut the door, so Darcy stepped into the foyer. A moment later, Mrs. Collins hurried down the hall toward him. Darcy sketched a quick bow.

  “Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Collins exclaimed, her expression not reassuring him. “I’m told you’re looking for Elizabeth. She isn’t here. She went for a walk hours ago. If I may be so bold, I wasn’t worried because I assumed she was with you.”

  “No. I have not seen her.” Darcy was growing truly worried now. He’d hoped something had delayed Elizabeth at the parsonage, or their times had gotten crossed. He hadn’t expected to find her missing.

  “Mr. Collins was summoned to Rosings a short time ago. It’s the second time he’s been there this morning.” Mrs. Collins imparted the information in a low voice, casting a quick glance over her shoulder, as if to ensure no one was in the hall behind her.

  Darcy frowned. He wasn’t sure what that could have to do with Elizabeth, but he shared Mrs. Collins’ obvious concern. “I will go to Rosings now.”

  “Thank you. Please let us know as soon as you find her.”

  Darcy nodded, bowed again, and left. His long strides made quick work of the walk to Rosings. His aunt’s carriage passed him on his way up the drive. As the curtains were open, it was easy to pick out Mr. Collins inside. Darcy waved, hoping the man would stop and speak with him, but Mr. Collins quickly looked away. His frown returned, Darcy hurried inside.

  The footmen he questioned indicated Lady Catherine did not wish to be disturbed and that Anne was indisposed. Darcy found Richard in a small, sun-filled parlor at the back of the house. It was one Darcy knew their aunt never visited. Likely, she’d all but forgotten the cozy little room was there. Richard lowered his paper as Darcy came in.

  “Good morning, if it is still,” Richard said. He glanced over his shoulder, out a lace enshrouded window, as if trying to assess the time of day. “I trust you had a pleasant walk this morning, Darcy?”