Courting Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  “Don’t you care for lemonade, Miss Bennet?” Mrs. Annesley asked.

  “I do, but I shall wait for the crush to pass. It’s quite popular, I see, and timely. I don’t believe I could go on much longer, though I was having great fun.”

  “Lady Agatha’s daughters were as well, I’m sure. It was kind of you to set up shots for them,” Mrs. Annesley said.

  “Is that who they are?” Elizabeth looked over at the two girls, standing with their mother as they drank their lemonade. Now that she saw them together, she could clearly observe the resemblance. “I didn’t realize Lady Agatha had daughters.”

  “It’s for them that she began this tradition,” Miss de Bourgh said. “My cousin feels her daughters should be able to get away from the formality of the party.”

  The tall young woman started back toward them, carrying two lemonades. As she drew near, Elizabeth thought one might be for her. To her surprise, however, the extra glass was passed to Mrs. Annesley.

  “Thank you,” Miss Annesley said.

  The young woman looked from Miss de Bourgh to Elizabeth.

  Miss de Bourgh offered her a warm smile. “This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  Elizabeth saw surprise on the young woman’s face and, oddly, something that appeared to be recognition.

  “Miss Bennet.” Miss de Bourgh turned to Elizabeth. “It is my pleasure to introduce you to my cousin, Miss Darcy.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Darcy strode down the long hallway toward the fencing hall. He didn’t want to teach Peter to fence. He wanted to dance with Elizabeth. The moment she’d appeared at the top of the steps, when he and Richard had collected the ladies from the Gardiner’s home, Elizabeth had occupied nearly every one of Darcy’s senses.

  Seated across from her in the carriage, he’d availed himself of a marvelous opportunity to take in every lovely inch of her, displayed to perfection in her new gown. The blue suited her perfectly, her creamy skin seeming almost to glow. The musical sound of her voice and the soft brushing of silk each time she shifted had filled his ears. Even from across the crowded coach, her subtle perfume had reached him.

  Darcy would have let that coach ride go on forever, except that every moment was a form of torture. His hands had longed to know if her skin was as soft as it looked, her tresses as silken. It was cruel to delight his other senses so, while denying touch.

  He shook his head, endeavoring to clear it. If he carried on in this fashion, woolgathering like some young fool, he’d be a poor teacher. Peter deserved better. The lad was only nine and fatherless. It was Darcy’s place as a male relative to step in where he could. He resolved that, for an hour or so, he would give his complete attention to Peter.

  He found Peter waiting for him, already fitted out in his padding, his face eager. They exchanged a quick greeting while Darcy removed his coat and donned the gear set out for him. When he was done, he looked about for their masks, finally spotting several on a rack at the back of the room.

  “Fetch us masks, will you, Peter,” Darcy said. He began checking the available blades, selecting one to his liking.

  “Masks?” Peter’s tone was touched with derision.

  Darcy turned to him, his face stern. “Yes, masks.”

  “Uncle Henry says masks are an insult to your opponent’s skill.”

  Darcy frowned. That sounded like the sort of nonsense Lord Henry would say. “Even the most skillful opponent isn’t perfect. When you fence with me, you will use a mask. If I ever find you fencing without one, I won’t instruct you anymore.” He waited, watching the turmoil on the boy’s face. Darcy almost wanted Peter to refuse, giving him an excuse to walk away. Dancing with Elizabeth was bound to be more entertaining than teaching a sulky Peter.

  “I’ll get them,” Peter said, sounding only a touch sulky. Leaving his foil, he jogged across the room.

  In spite of wanting to dance with Elizabeth, Darcy was pleased. He took a certain amount of pride in his interactions with Peter, hoping he was molding him into a proper sort of man. The boy’s willingness to get the masks spoke of a good character.

  When Peter returned, Darcy began putting him through drills. They practiced lunges, focusing on the proper footwork. Darcy found himself repeating phrases his instructor had used, pertaining to the importance of a solid foundation. They then moved to parries, with Darcy delivering the appropriate attacks.

  “But you are telling me how to parry with each attack,” Peter complained. “Shouldn’t I have to decide which one to use?”

  “In time, yes, but the first step is to excel at each. If you cannot properly implement a parry, it does you no good to choose to employ it. Now, let’s go back to parry quarte.”

  “But that’s the first one you taught me. It’s the easiest one.”

  “I still practice it, and so should you.”

  By this time, a number of people had drifted into the room. Several of the watching adults encouraged the young men with them to pay attention and learn. Peter seemed hardly to notice, intent on his lesson. Because drills were boring by nature, Darcy alternated them with brief bouts of fencing, allowing him to modify the drills to accommodate those areas where Peter showed weaknesses. Darcy felt the eyes of the watchers, but he was accustomed to being watched. Still, when his cousin, Lord Henry Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Matlock, came in, Darcy began to feel like he was on stage.

  Fortunately, they’d already been at it for a little over an hour and Peter was wearying. Darcy deemed it legitimate to end the lesson. Peter had shown considerable poise for a nine-year old, but he would become clumsy and ill-tempered soon.

  “I believe that is enough for today,” Darcy said when Peter finished the drill he was working through.

  “Already?” Peter seemed almost to wilt in disappointment, though he was clearly tired.

  “Next time I come here, I’ll give you another lesson.” Darcy didn’t want to commit to a specific time, but he could promise that much. “Do you know how to stow your equipment?”

  “I do.” Peter puffed back up a bit, clearly proud of his competence. He pulled off his mask, revealing a smile. “Thank you for your assistance, Cousin Darcy.”

  “You are most welcome.” Darcy was aware of Henry sauntering up behind him.

  “Masks?” Henry said with contempt. “Are you afraid you can’t defend yourself against a child or that you’re so poor a fencer you will injure one?”

  Suppressing a sigh, Darcy turned to his cousin and bowed. “Good afternoon, Henry. As I was telling Peter, masks are a sensible safety precaution.” Darcy took his off.

  “For a poor fencer.”

  Darcy didn’t miss the belligerence in Henry’s tone. To the uninitiated, it might seem that Henry was angry, even hateful, but Darcy knew better. The tone was all part of Henry’s game. He would badger and push, goading his quarry into engaging in whatever amusement he’d set out to enjoy. Darcy became acutely aware that none of the onlookers had departed yet, and of Peter watching with wide eyes. “Or for a good fencer who doesn’t want to risk anyone losing an eye.”

  “So you would wear a mask if you fenced with me?” Henry asked, still obstinate.

  Darcy could guess where Henry was going, but saw no graceful way around it. With Henry, there rarely was. “Yes.”

  “You insult me. I should challenge you to a duel for that.” Glee flashed in Henry’s eyes.

  Darcy suppressed a smile at that and altered his strategy. “I would pick pistols.”

  “You admit I’m a better fencer than you?” Henry cried, sounding both disappointed and surprised.

  “No, but if you are not willing to don a mask, I won’t face you.”

  Henry grimaced. He cast a look about them, taking in the steadily growing sea of faces. “Have it your way, Darcy. A mask it is.”

  Darcy answered that with a grin, shoving his back on. Teaching Peter hadn’t been strenuous and Darcy wasn’t tired, merely warmed up. Thought of the boy sobered him and when he saluted Henry, i
t was with calm focus. Darcy knew he had to beat his cousin for Peter’s sake. He had to show the lad that a good fencer used a mask.

  ***

  If Elizabeth was surprised to find her shuttlecock partner was Miss Darcy, Miss Darcy appeared equally surprised to learn hers was Elizabeth.

  “My brother wrote me about you,” Miss Darcy blurted, her tone as startled as her expression. “He said you are very clever.” Snapping her mouth closed, she blushed.

  “He must have caught me on those rare occasions when I say something clever. I’m due for another bout of wit sometime next January, I think.”

  Miss Darcy smiled, then looked down, obviously shy now that they were conversing, not playing. “I can see why he likes you,” she mumbled.

  Mrs. Annesley gave her a discrete nudge.

  Miss Darcy looked up. She blushed again, but squared her shoulders. “But I have my own reasons to like you,” she said in more audibly tones. “It was fun playing with someone as skilled and enthusiastic as you.”

  “While others are boasting of their skill at music or drawing, I will have to refer to you to tell how masterful I am at battledore and shuttlecock.”

  Miss Darcy pulled a face, glancing at Mrs. Annesley. “I’ve been informed I shan’t have any skills if I don’t apply myself better.”

  Elizabeth, recalling Mr. Darcy’s recounting of his sister’s accomplishments, doubted that was really a risk. “Well, I am pleased you took today away from your studies.”

  Miss Darcy’s smile appeared a bit less timid this time. “I’m going back to them tomorrow, but Mrs. Annesley said I could enjoy myself today.”

  Behind her, Lady Agatha’s daughters were calling about, angling to start a new game. They’d already found eager players in the two Gardiner girls, but wanted more matches going for a tournament of sorts. Elizabeth had enjoyed herself immensely, but she’d had her fill of the game for now. She cast Miss de Bourgh a questioning look.

  Miss Darcy eyed her cousins. “Perhaps it would be nice to be with adults for a while.” She glanced at her governess, who nodded.

  “And I should like to look in on my aunt and uncle, if I can find them, and Jane,” Elizabeth said.

  Together, the four of them left the Girls’ Garden. Elizabeth found her aunt and uncle seated at a small table with another couple. Separating from her companions, she approached and was introduced to what turned out to be old friends of the Gardiners. Her aunt and uncle appeared to have no desire to leave their current company, allowing Elizabeth to feel free to enjoy herself.

  She spent a little time seeking Jane, but couldn’t locate her. This troubled Elizabeth slightly, but not terribly. With the great mass of people seeming to fill every space both inside and out, Jane wasn’t alone with Colonel Fitzwilliam, wherever they were. Not to mention that Elizabeth had come to know him with moderate familiarity. She trusted the colonel completely, both with Jane and to look after her.

  Abandoning that search, she set out to rediscovered her companions from the Girls’ Garden, soon finding them applying themselves to the buffet. A quick glance about the room showed that Mr. Bingley and the widow no longer occupied it, to Elizabeth’s relief, so she joined them. Soon she, Miss de Bourgh, Miss Darcy, and Mrs. Annesley had all served themselves and set out looking for a table, finding an empty one in one of the shallow alcoves created by the grand statues set along the walls. The table had room for eight, allowing plenty of choice for seating. Elizabeth deliberately selected a place next to the wall, where she would be hidden by a statue. She didn’t want to be seen by Mr. Bingley, should he return.

  Elizabeth and her three companions chatted while they ate, Elizabeth answering Miss de Bourgh’s polite inquiries about the Gardiners. Although Miss Darcy contributed the least to the conversation, she appeared comfortable enough with the current company. Miss de Bourgh was obviously so, apparently well accustomed to her cousin and Mrs. Annesley, and now easy in Elizabeth’s presence as well. So much so, Elizabeth felt she often spoke over Miss Darcy’s tentative attempts to converse. Elizabeth, in turn, gave Miss Darcy many conversational openings, subtly trying to make her comfortable talking. It didn’t take her long to realize Mrs. Annesley was doing the same thing. Miss de Bourgh, however, appeared to remain ignorant.

  “Miss Darcy,” a familiar voice exclaimed, suffused with false warmth.

  Though the speaker was hidden from Elizabeth by the statue she sat near, she knew it was Miss Bingley. As all three of her tablemates had turned at the greeting, Elizabeth indulged herself in a grimace before schooling her features into polite indifference. Mr. Hurst strode into view, not looking at their table, and hurried off toward the buffet.

  There was a swish of skirts and two sets of footsteps drew near. “It’s so lovely to see you Miss Darcy, Miss de Bourgh,” Miss Bingley said. “Good afternoon Mrs. Annesley, and who have we . . .”

  Miss Bingley’s voice trailed off as she rounded the statue and spotted Elizabeth. Mrs. Hurst followed, distaste flashing in her eyes when they landed upon the fourth occupant of the table. Well aware the sisters didn’t like her, Elizabeth was unsurprised by the look, or the one of chagrin which overtook Miss Bingley’s features.

  “Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst,” Elizabeth greeted with all the politeness and feigned pleasure she could stomach.

  Miss Bingley turned to Miss Darcy. “Miss Darcy, how good of you to save us seats.” She gestures to the empty chairs.

  Miss Darcy said nothing, looking down. The sisters sat. Elizabeth hid a smile, wondering if the two seats they selected were meant to keep them near Miss Darcy and Miss de Bourgh, or far from Elizabeth. Likely, it was both.

  After fluffing her skirts to her satisfaction, Miss Bingley turned a false smile on Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, I am surprised to see you here.” Her eyes shifted toward Miss Darcy and Miss de Bourgh.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you here either,” Elizabeth replied. She hoped the subtle difference in her statement would make it polite, not tit for tat. She hadn’t missed Miss Bingley’s glance, a not very subtle indication that part of her surprise was at finding Elizabeth seated with people of rank and fashion.

  Miss Bingley’s smile didn’t waver, but she eyed Elizabeth like something she’d found stuck to her shoe. Something that would require the footwear not to be cleaned, but tossed out. “That is a lovely dress, Miss Bennet. I’ve never seen you wear anything so fashionable. It is so unlike what you usually wear.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Thank you.” She made sure to keep her tone sweet, in spite of being certain the compliment was only given as an excuse for the insult. She suspected Miss Bingley would be upset to have her words taken kindly, which made her smile. It amused Elizabeth that Miss Bingley’s dislike of her led her to say something inappropriate.

  “Have you seen the house yet, Miss Bennet?” Mrs. Hurst asked. “You should take advantage of this chance.”

  Elizabeth permitted her smile to widen. First one sister insulted the clothing she usually wore, and then the other implied she didn’t spend much time in such lofty company. It was amazing how much bad behavior her mere presence could inspire.

  “I’ve already shown Elizabeth around,” Miss de Bourgh said. “We arrived together.”

  Elizabeth hid her surprise at Miss de Bourgh’s use of her given name, which implied a closeness anyone who knew Miss Bingley could guess would inspire jealousy.

  “Together?” Miss Bingley said sharply, looking between them.

  “Yes.” Miss de Bourgh’s chin angled up a notch, a defiant look coming into her eyes. “Lady Agatha invited Elizabeth and Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle, with whom I’m staying. They never made it to the buffet, since they found some old friends and are catching up.”

  “You are staying with Miss Bennet’s aunt and uncle? Aren’t they in trade?” Miss Bingley gasped.

  This time, Elizabeth nearly laughed. Miss Bingley spoke with such shock, she couldn’t manage to maintain even the veneer of politeness. Mrs. Hur
st frowned at her. Miss Darcy looked up, her wide, surprised eyes moving from face to face.

  “I believe so.” Miss de Bourgh’s tone was, if anything, more aloof. “They are delightful people and offered me a refuge when I felt the need for space from my mother.”

  “But, to stay with them?” Miss Bingley gave her sister a pleading look.

  “You should come stay with us,” Mrs. Hurst said.

  “You’ll be much happier,” Miss Bingley said. “We’ve plenty of room, and we can come to know each other better.”

  Elizabeth didn’t think the offer would be accepted, but wasn’t certain. Miss de Bourgh didn’t appear to care for Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, but it was difficult to tell how much that signified to a woman who’d lived with Lady Catherine for nearly twenty-five years. She turned to Miss de Bourgh, curious to find out which she valued more, a cheerful household, or her own room and a proper bevy of servants.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Darcy won. Henry beat him on the third bout, but insisted they still fence the fifth after Darcy took the match by winning the fourth. Henry claimed he rarely had the opportunity to fence with someone who was better than he was, and said it was worth it to be beaten during the fifth round just for the experience.

  Though he kept his focus on his opponent throughout, for Henry was no slouch, Darcy was aware that Peter watched with avid attention, as did the ever-increasing crowd they’d drawn. When the final match was over, Peter was sent on his way ecstatic over the display of swordsmanship and suitably impressed with Darcy as a fencing instructor. Darcy could only hope the end result would be that Peter would always wear a mask.

  Darcy and Henry divested themselves of their masks and padding, shrugging back into their coats. The crowd began to thin, various people stopping to congratulate Darcy and praise the match. Henry took his defeat with grace, which was typical of his sporting nature.

  “Well done, Darcy,” Bingley’s familiar voice called as Darcy was still easing himself into his coat.