Courting Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  “Miss Darcy is in London?” Elizabeth asked, remembering that Lady Agatha had said she would send another invitation to Darcy House. The first, then, had not been deemed lost in a pile, but delivered.

  “She is, and now I shall have the opportunity to introduce you,” Mr. Darcy said, sounding pleased. “Her letter hadn’t reached Rosings before we left. She cut short her visit to a friend’s due to an ailment in their family.”

  “I hope nothing serious,” Jane said.

  Mr. Darcy shook his head.

  Elizabeth looked down, not sure she was happy with the prospect of meeting Miss Darcy. It was one thing to pretend Mr. Darcy was courting her before cousins and strangers, but seemed a cruel trick to play on his sister. Not to mention, though she knew now what a liar Mr. Wickham was, she was still leery of meeting a young woman he’d painted as aloof. In view of how Mr. Darcy had conducted himself when he’d first come to Hertfordshire, Elizabeth was doubtful Miss Darcy would make any better of a first impression.

  “You’ll all be pleased you were invited to my sister’s party,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “Her parties are famous, but not for the usual reasons.”

  “We are already pleased, to be sure. To be invited, and to have the opportunity to meet Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said, realizing a response to Mr. Darcy’s offer on an introduction was required.

  “How are the parties different?” Jane asked, sounding a touch nervous.

  Jane had eaten little, worrying Elizabeth. She regretted their day had set her sister to thinking overmuch about Mr. Bingley. Still, it was a very kind thing Miss de Bourgh had done in buying the dress, and seemed splendid Lady Agatha had invited them to the party. Elizabeth supposed they must take the good with the bad.

  “All sorts of different things go on in different rooms. There will be dancing in one room, cards in another, and outdoor games, weather permitting. There will be serious whist and billiards, and people gathering in small groups, talking.”

  “Some people attend for the food alone,” Miss de Bourgh said, the eyes she turned toward the colonel glinting with amusement.

  “Yes. She has a buffet that is refilled regularly, full of delicacies,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with obvious anticipation. “Others, of course, come because you meet everyone there.”

  “As you know, she invites children. She provides entertainment for them,” Miss de Bourgh added. “Sometimes, it’s the most fun of all.”

  “Children,” Mr. Darcy said. “I all but forgot. You’ll have to begin your exploration of the event without me.”

  Everyone tuned to him in surprise.

  “I promised Peter I would give him a fencing lesson next time I visited,” Mr. Darcy clarified.

  Elizabeth could only assume Peter was a child of Lady Agatha’s.

  “Surely, you can tell him it will wait until next time,” Miss de Bourgh said. She shot a look at Elizabeth.

  “No.” Mr. Darcy’s tone was firm. “I gave him my word. What would it teach him if I disregard it the moment it becomes inconvenient? I’m sure the rest of you will be well entertained, and it will not occupy me the entire time.”

  “It had best not.” Miss de Bourgh’s sounded oddly peevish. “Mother will hear of everything that happens there. While I expressly forbid you from asking me to dance, I expect you to dance at least two sets with Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Consider it a promise,” Mr. Darcy said, glancing Elizabeth’s way with a smile.

  Chapter Eleven

  Elizabeth, slightly squeezed as she shared a bench with both Jane and Miss de Bourgh, peered out the window of Mr. Darcy’s carriage. She was surprised they were traveling so far out of London, but as neither Mr. Darcy, Miss de Bourgh or Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed concerned, she could only conclude the coachman had his directions correct. Resisting the urge to stick her head out to make sure her aunt’s and uncle’s carriage still followed, Elizabeth sat back in her seat.

  On the very outskirts of town, they turned down a long, tree-lined drive, and Elizabeth understood. While the area wasn’t one of those central London locations sought after by the fashionable elite, the homes they’d been passing were quite large, and the grounds even larger. Lady Agatha’s so-called London house was very nearly a country estate. Elizabeth could easily comprehend the appeal.

  They queued up in the drive, the pace permitting plenty of time for conversation and admiration of the grounds visible through the carriage windows. Elizabeth found much to like about both, not minding the wait. When their turn to disembark came, she found that, at some point during the drive, other carriages had come between Mr. Darcy’s and the Gardiner’s. Elizabeth and Jane would have waited, but their aunt spotted them from her window and waved them ahead.

  She and Jane followed Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss de Bourgh into a stunning foyer. The walls were clad in subtly shaded pattered silk. Ornate tables of fine, brightly polished wood stood at intervals, each boasting a vase of flowers, small statuary, or other adornment. A row of sparkling crystal chandeliers led the way forward.

  Before they reached their hostess, Mr. Darcy dropped back to walk beside Elizabeth. “I must bid you adieu for now, Miss Elizabeth, but I beg you not to forget our promised dances.”

  Elizabeth nodded, amused by Mr. Darcy’s attentiveness. “I shall look forward to your return, sir.”

  Miss de Bourgh looked back at them with a smile.

  After greeting their hostess, Mr. Darcy hurried away. Colonel Fitzwilliam, now burdened with three single young ladies, turned to survey them. Elizabeth thought he looked as though he was sizing up the troops, until his eyes landed on Jane. Elizabeth couldn’t be sure, but she felt there was a softening of the colonel’s regard when he looked upon her sister.

  Jane’s dress was by no means the height of fashion, nor was it new. That mattered not at all, by Elizabeth’s estimation. The pale green, touched modestly with ivory ribbons and lace, set off Jane’s luminous complexion perfectly. No one could take in her shining curls, even features, perfect bow of a mouth and brilliant eyes without being moved.

  Miss de Bourgh, for her part, looked fashionable. Jane had persuaded her to wear more ringlets about her face, muting the length and narrowness of her features. Miss de Bourgh’s dress, a light yellow, made her hair look darker, instead of a middling brown. Her pearls were just right for her dress and not as gaudy as the jewelry her mother wore.

  “I daresay we should attempt the buffet first.” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voice broke into Elizabeth’s thoughts. “The drive out was long enough to leave me famished.”

  Miss de Bourgh laughed. “You always wish to attempt the buffet.”

  The colonel offered her his arm. They headed in what Elizabeth could only assume was the direction of the buffet. As she and Jane followed, Elizabeth endeavored not to be too impressed with her surroundings. She didn’t wish to gape like a miss fresh from the country. Especially not in her new dress, which made her look as modish and sophisticated as any Londoner.

  The buffet room was sizeable, yet still crowded, for all its grandeur. Large statues were set along the walls, creating the semblance of alcoves. Between two, a lavish buffet was set. Even from a distance, the offerings appeared extravagant. The colonel led them toward one end, chatting amiable with Miss de Bourgh.

  A third of the way across the room, Jane stopped. A gasp left her. Quiet as the sound was, Colonel Fitzwilliam must have sensed something amiss, for he turned back to face them with an alacrity that obviously startled Miss de Bourgh. Elizabeth registered the concern on his face and the pallor of Jane’s. She followed her sister’s gaze across the room.

  Mr. Bingley stood in one of the mock alcoves the statuary formed. He was in what appeared to be intimate conversation with an attractive young woman in a deeply cut lavender gown, trimmed in grey. Their heads were bent close together, their low voices lost in the distance of the room. She placed a hand on Mr. Bingley’s arm, smiling up at him with considerable warmth. Leaning down farther,
he whispered something in her ear. When he straightened, she stood on tiptoe and whispered in his. Mr. Bingley tossed his head back, laughing.

  Jane made a desperate sound, as if she couldn’t breathe. Elizabeth’s eyes flew back to her face, finding it drained of color. Miss de Bourgh, having obviously recovered from the colonel’s abandonment, had turned to face Jane as well. Jane swayed, looking like she might faint. All three reached for her, but Colonel Fitzwilliam was quickest. He tucked her arm into his, steadying her. In so doing, he moved between her and the sight of Mr. Bingley.

  Based on the quick look he cast over his shoulder, Elizabeth felt the colonel had ascertained the cause of Jane’s distress. He turned to her, and Elizabeth could see understanding dawn. She realized he now knew Jane was the woman Mr. Darcy had separated Mr. Bingley from. Elizabeth wondered if he recalled the casual way he’d mentioned the act to her, on their walk. She knew, at the time, he’d meant it as a complement to Mr. Darcy.

  “Miss Bennet, are you unwell?” Miss de Bourgh asked, her face pinched with concern as she regarded Jane.

  “I suspect Miss Bennet would like to work up an appetite before eating,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “There is dancing over there.” He pointed in the opposite direction of Mr. Bingley. “Would you care to dance?”

  Jane looked at him, but her eyes didn’t hold much comprehension.

  He smiled at her, placing his other hand atop hers, where it rested on his arm. “Come, let’s leave this room, Miss Bennet. I’ll show you where the dancing is being held.”

  “Yes.” Jane gave a shaky nod. “I should like to leave this room.”

  With considerable care, giving the impression Jane was a fragile bloom, Colonel Fitzwilliam turned her about and led her out the door they’d entered through. Elizabeth would have followed, but Miss de Bourgh put a hand on her arm. Elizabeth hesitated before turning to her, worried for Jane, but her sister seemed to be in capable hands. What good would she do, following them? The best thing for Jane likely would be to dance, and she wouldn’t leave Elizabeth standing off to the side while she did it.

  “I don’t understand,” Miss de Bourgh said. “Is your sister unwell? Is she prone to these fits?”

  Now that the colonel was gone, Elizabeth could once again see Mr. Bingley. It was obvious, though they’d drawn some attention, that neither he nor his conversation partner had noticed. Miss de Bourgh craned her neck over her shoulder in the direction Elizabeth was looking.

  “Oh,” Miss de Bourgh exclaimed. She, unlike Colonel Fitzwilliam, had read Mr. Darcy’s letter. “Mr. Bingley.” She looked after Jane and her cousin, though they were no longer in view. “She truly did love him, didn’t she?”

  “And it seems she still does, or at least did until a moment ago. I’ve been worried that was the case, for she hasn’t been herself.” Elizabeth resisted the urge to look back and Mr. Bingley, whose laughter once again made its way across the room. “Who is she? The woman he’s speaking with? I gather by her dress she’s coming out of mourning. Is she a widow?” Elizabeth tried not to think about how Mr. Bingley shamelessly flirting with a widow in public might mean they were doing something even more shameful in private.

  “Yes, another widow who shouldn’t be a widow.” Miss be Bourgh pursed her lips. “Although, I don’t think she minds.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, she does not seem to mind, does she?” Miss de Bourgh’s tone held a noticeable amount of censure. “Nor does he. I believe they’re both pleased she’s a widow and afforded certain social liberties.”

  Elizabeth blushed. “I meant, I don’t understand why she is another widow who shouldn’t be one. I assume you mean, similarly to our hostess?”

  “I apologize. I misunderstood the question.” Miss de Bourgh did not blush. “Yes, like Lady Agatha, your Mr. Bingley’s merry widow, Mrs. Kent, lost her husband too soon. My cousin Henry Fitzwilliam, the current Earl of Matlock and Lady Agatha and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s older brother, runs with a wild crowd. They live on activity, and don’t mind danger. They race carriages and horses. They hunt. Sometimes they fight duels over nothing. Lady Agatha’s husband died trying to beat Henry’s record on some stretch of road, I’ve forgotten which. Mrs. Kent’s husband died trying to climb up a cliff.”

  “I take it the death wasn’t recent,” Elizabeth said, for the woman wore lavender, a mark of her status as a widow, not the black of mourning.

  “About a year and a half ago. She married at sixteen and is now one and twenty. Though I think she’s being a bit crass with Mr. Bingley, I must admit I envy her. Although most of Mr. Kent’s money went to his children from his first marriage, she has complete control over her generous widow’s portion. She’s a fool if she remarries, although sometimes women are fools.”

  “What if she falls in love?” Elizabeth was surprised by both Miss de Bourgh’s practicality and cynicism. Then, Miss de Bourgh had grown up with Lady Catherine, a mother who’d forced her to learn to bribe her own servants and taught her that if she showed too much affection for a man, she would be removed from him.

  “I suspect love is a myth, especially for her, but who knows? I doubt I’ve exchanged a dozen words with her.”

  Possessed of Miss de Bourgh’s revelations, Elizabeth took another look at the couple. They stood even closer together now, obviously not paying attention to anyone else in the room. She quickly turned back away, unable to help feeling disappointed in Mr. Bingley and resentful toward Mrs. Kent. As upsetting as it was to see a man she’d once hoped to call brother so engrossed in flirtation, Elizabeth was glad he didn’t have the presence of mind to look about and see her.

  “Why don’t we seek other entertainment?” Miss de Bourgh asked. “I suspect you aren’t really hungry.”

  “No, I’m not,” Elizabeth said, more than happy to leave the room. She was aware of a mounting resentment toward Mr. Bingley, her thoughts lingering on Jane’s distress. Logically, Elizabeth knew Mr. Bingley had every right to flirt with Mrs. Kent, but seeing the smiles he’d once bestowed on Jane being given to a fast widow made her angry. Half in jest, she added, “I think I would like to avoid the male sex altogether for a while.”

  “I know just the place.”

  To Elizabeth’s surprise, Miss de Bourgh led her from the house. They crossed a short stretch of lawn to a row of hedges. At first, Elizabeth thought the hedges were part of a maze and wasn’t sure she wished to go in, but she followed Miss de Bourgh around a corner to find the shrubberies simply screened a large area of lawn. The ample open space was outlined by more hedges, all taller than a tall man could reach.

  There were chairs scattered around and Elizabeth spotted a number of women, some who looked like governesses and others who looked like mothers or older sisters. Some stood, but others were seated. Many watched the various groups of girls playing battledore and shuttlecock. Elizabeth smiled, instantly calmed. She too watched for a few minutes, observing the energy of the young women and girls using small paddles to try to keep the shuttlecock in the air. Looking around again, she realized some of the girls were old enough to be out, but most were younger.

  “Lady Agatha has made it easy to get away from men,” Miss de Bourgh said.

  “This is splendid.” Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel renewed and invigorated. She hadn’t expected something as fun as sports for girls at a party which included so much of the ton. She looked to Miss de Bourgh. “Would you care to play? Mr. Darcy is fencing, and Colonel Fitzwilliam and Jane dancing. We can’t permit them to have more fun than we are.”

  “I can try.” Miss de Bourgh led Elizabeth to one of the governesses, whom she introduced as Mrs. Annesley.

  “May we join in?” Elizabeth asked once the introductions were done. She gestured toward the players.

  “Of course you may.” Mrs. Annesley produced two paddles, handing one to each of them. She pointed to a group. “You’re just in time for a new round. We could use two in that group.”

  “Wil
l you introduce us?” Elizabeth asked.

  Mrs. Annesley smiled. “The Girls’ Garden is deliberately kept informal. There will be time for introductions after the match, I’m sure.”

  Miss de Bourgh led Elizabeth out, but played for only a short while, tiring quickly and obviously inexperienced. Elizabeth hadn’t played the game in years, but her previous skill partially returned and she enjoyed herself. Soon, most of the other women abandoned the game for chairs, leaving only children, Elizabeth and a tall young woman who was expensively dressed. She cooperated with Elizabeth in aiming the shuttlecock so that the younger girls had easy shots. Whenever the girls delighted in their success, the tall young woman would exchange a conspiratorial smile with Elizabeth.

  Eventually, the game was reduced to four people, Elizabeth, the tall young woman, and two girls who were obviously sisters, aged about eleven and thirteen. Elizabeth had rarely enjoyed herself so much at a party, but she was beginning to wonder if she had the stamina to keep playing. She hadn’t slept well yet again, and so didn’t have her usual vigor. She didn’t want to ruin the game for the others, but she was tired, starting to worry about Jane, and now truly had worked up an appetite.

  She was contemplating bowing out when she noticed the two sisters seemed to be growing tired as well. Resolving it would be the final round, she lobbed an easy serve to the younger. They had a nice volley going when, a short time later, Lady Agatha appeared and announced that lemonade was served. She was followed by a line of tray-bearing maids, who were in turn followed by Elizabeth’s cousins and their governess.

  Though Lady Agatha hadn’t specified what children were invited, Elizabeth’s aunt had only permitted her daughters, girls of six and eight, to attend. She’d left her two young sons home with a nursemaid. The sisters Elizabeth was playing with quickly abandoned their game for the treat of lemonade, the tall young woman following them. Elizabeth waved to her cousins, but returned to Miss de Bourgh and Mrs. Annesley, rather than joining the chaos surrounding the treat.