Courting Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  Darcy used the excuse of his sleeves to give him a moment to compose his expression. If Miss Bennet cared for Mr. Bingley as much as Elizabeth seemed to think, things could go badly if the two met. Worse, where Bingley was, Miss Bingley was sure to follow. Darcy would have less patience than ever for her slights to Elizabeth. He gave one final tug to his sleeve and turned to his friend. “Bingley. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I only made the final bout, but I came as soon as I heard there was an exhibition of fencing between you and Matlock.” He turned to Henry and bowed. “My lord.”

  “Bingley,” Henry acknowledged with a nod. “I’m afraid I didn’t give a very good show fencing.” He turned to Darcy, a flash of challenge in his eyes. “I may have lost today, but bet that on my grey I could beat you on any horse of yours, Darcy.”

  “Certainly,” Darcy said. “We’ll race from London to Greenwich.”

  Bingley chuckled.

  “But that’s nine or ten miles,” Henry said. “That’s not a race. It’s a mail run.”

  “That’s the sort of stable Darcy keeps,” Bingley said.

  “I’m not interested in racing,” Darcy said, almost apologetically. He knew he would never really win against Henry. If he won, Henry would insist on a rematch. If he lost, well, he lost. Darcy was starting to regret permitting himself to be drawn into the fencing match, for his cousin didn’t care to let go of a rivalry. “I want a horse that will take me where I want to go.”

  “You always were the practical one, Darcy.” Henry shook his head in sham sorrow.

  Darcy smiled but, looking at Henry carefully for the first time, he was momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t had the presence of mind to note before they began fencing, but there were growing signs of age in his cousin’s face. Henry was what, thirty-three? In spite of the five years’ difference between them, Darcy had always considered Henry a contemporary, perhaps because he acted like a younger man.

  Henry slapped Darcy on the arm. “Don’t look so grim, Darcy. I won’t force you to race me. Especially when I know it would be no contest.”

  Darcy shook his head at Henry’s taunting tone.

  “Are you going to stand there and take that, Darcy?” Bingley asked, his voice full of mock indignation.

  “No.” Darcy took in the anticipation on Henry’s face, amused his cousin was taking the bait. “Instead, I’m going to leave. I’m longing for a glimpse of Lady Agatha’s buffet.”

  That earned him another friendly clout and a chuckle from Henry. “At least you’ve come by your appetite well. I’m hungry myself. Bingley?”

  Bingley nodded and the three set out for the buffet room. As they walked, stopping often to converse with acquaintances, Henry regaled them with broken bits of a story about a recent carriage race. The tale was entertaining, but harrowing as well. The more Darcy heard, the more surprised he was that Henry was still engaging in such foolishness. By the time the story was finished, Darcy had no regrets about not permitting himself to be drawn into more foolery.

  The buffet room was as crowded as ever. Darcy didn’t see Elizabeth, but he spotted Anne and his sister at a table along the wall, tucked in next to one of the statues. Unfortunately, Miss Bingley and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst also sat at the table. Also unfortunately, Miss Bingley spotted them before Darcy could compile a reason to turn away.

  As they drew near, Darcy found Elizabeth was with his sister and cousin after all, having been obscured by the statuary. Richard, Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle and, fortunately, Miss Bennet, were not in evidence. Darcy knew there was little chance of Miss Bennet never encountering Bingley again, but didn’t feel the need to be a witness to the occasion, if he could avoid it.

  They reached the table and everyone stood, exchanging greetings. That done, Mr. Hurst returned to his seat, applying himself to the heaping plate of food before him. Most of the ladies retook their seats as well, but the gentlemen, Elizabeth and Miss Bingley remained standing. Elizabeth had come around the table during the greetings, and now stood beside Darcy, just near enough for him to catch a hint of the light scent she wore.

  Miss Bingley turned to her brother. “Charles, Louisa and I have been attempting to persuade Miss de Bourgh to come stay with us. You must throw your weight behind us.”

  “I’m staying with the Gardiners.” Anne’s tone was calm but firm, impressing Darcy. “It would be insulting to leave them while I’m still in London, and they have been nothing but kind and accommodating.”

  Elizabeth smiled.

  “Well, it seems we must leave London, then,” Bingley said, sounding proud of his solution. “An excellent idea, Caroline. We’ll return to Hertfordshire. The country should be enjoyable at this time of year. You must join my sister and me at Netherfield Park, Miss de Bourgh.”

  Miss Bingley cast a look of distaste toward Elizabeth. “It’s still too early to go north.”

  “You were just saying you would like to see Pemberley at this time of year,” Mr. Hurst mumbled around a mouthful of food.

  Elizabeth’s smile widened. Darcy could imagine what she was thinking. Pemberley was even farther north than Netherfield Park. They all knew Miss Bingley would travel there at any time of year, in any weather.

  “Well, I’m going,” Bingley said. “I fancy some riding in the country, and this is the last party of the season that I had any plan to attend. You really must come with me, Caroline, as hostess.” He looked at the Hursts. “I would enjoy having your company as well.”

  Darcy was surprised at Bingley’s statement about parties, for he was generally quite social. Elizabeth, too, appeared skeptical. Considering she knew Bingley less well, her disbelief more likely stemmed from his declaration that he would enjoy the company of the Hursts.

  “Love to,” Mr. Hurst said, pausing in his eating. “You keep a good table. We have to delay a couple of days, I’m afraid, because I have an engagement. Miss Bingley can go earlier.”

  Bingley turned to Darcy. “Darcy, would you like to join us?”

  He took in Miss Bingley’s eager expression. It occurred to him the subject of his courtship of Elizabeth must not have come up. Had it, Miss Bingley would be as eager to keep him away from Hertfordshire as she was her brother. Did that mean Anne had given up the idea of his courting Elizabeth, or simply hadn’t had time to intimate the rumor yet? It didn’t matter, for Darcy intended to pursue Elizabeth either way. “If Anne goes, I should. I believe her leaving Rosings was contingent on my being, well, not quite with her, but available.”

  “I haven’t said I’m going,” Anne said, sounding a trifle annoyed. “And do you mean, Darcy, that you’d abandon Miss Elizabeth?” The look she gave him was meaningful.

  “Why should Mr. Darcy consider Miss Bennet?” Miss Bingley’s tone was sharp. “Let her relations see to her.” Her smile turned sweet. “You simply must come with us, Miss de Bourgh.”

  “If you wish to go, Miss de Bourgh, there’s no need to worry over me. I shall simply return home,” Elizabeth said.

  Anne turned from face to face. Darcy wondered if she didn’t know what she wanted, or was so unaccustomed to making decisions she couldn’t do it with ease. Henry, standing on the other side of Elizabeth, looked on with obvious amusement.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam is staying with Darcy. We can’t all desert him,” Anne said.

  “He’s invited too,” Bingley said. “As is Miss Darcy.”

  Where she sat off to the side between Mrs. Annesley and Mrs. Hurst, Georgiana’s head popped up. Her eyes were wide with something near to terror. She gave Darcy a barely discernable shake of her head.

  “Georgiana must stay in London and attend her lessons,” he said, granting her the reprieve he knew she wanted. A house full of people, one of them Miss Bingley, was akin to torture to Georgiana. She might also be aware, as he was, that Mr. Wickham was in Hertfordshire. Darcy wanted to encourage her to be more outgoing, and would like to see her spend time with Elizabeth, but he wouldn’t make her suffer.

&nb
sp; “Miss Bennet,” Henry said, turning to Elizabeth. “It looks as if you and I are the only ones not going to the wilds of Hertfordshire. Fortunately, I shall have you here in London to entertain me.”

  Though Henry’s tone was light, Darcy bristled at the flirtation. Maybe now was the time to let the world know he was courting Elizabeth. Shocked by his inclination to blurt out the news then and there, he made himself draw a calming breath.

  “I am afraid you are mistaken, my lord,” Elizabeth said to Henry. “When I said I should return home if Miss de Bourgh leaves London, I meant I, too, would journey to Hertfordshire. I live but three miles from Mr. Bingley. I assure you it is quite tame there, and truly is lovely at this time of year.”

  “Then I’m sorry to miss it, especially with an example of that loveliness before me.”

  Anger flickered in Darcy again, but he’d come to his senses now. Letting Henry know of his courtship of Elizabeth would likely be an error. Courtship, as Elizabeth had pointed out at the start, was not engagement. If Darcy showed too much pique, Henry might take winning Elizabeth from him as a challenge. Since Darcy was well aware she felt no great love for him, yet, he didn’t know which of them would win such a contest. At least he could assure himself she wouldn’t marry Henry simply for his money. Of course, Henry also had a title.

  As if remembering as much herself, Miss Bingley turned covetous eyes on Henry. “Charles,” she prompted.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord,” Bingley said. “I would like to extend you an invitation as well.”

  “Splendid,” Henry said. “I’d be delighted, and I’m sure Richard will be too. What do you say, Anne? Shall we make a party of it?”

  Anne shook her head, but she smiled. “Yes, I suppose we shall. It seems I am destined to visit the wilds of Hertfordshire.”

  “Excellent.” Henry grinned around at them, his gaze lingering on Elizabeth.

  Darcy didn’t think Henry going was excellent, but it would certainly be interesting.

  ***

  The following day found Darcy alone in his office, seated behind his elegant mahogany desk, working through a heavy pile of correspondences. The stack made him feel a bit guilty. He realized he’d been, not quite neglecting, but delaying seeing to his interests for longer than he really liked.

  He’d made his way through a solid half of the pile when a knock sounded. Checking the clock on the mantel, he found it wasn’t yet time for tea, which could only mean a visitor. He considered the diminished pile, shrugged, and called, “Enter.”

  His butler stepped into the room. “Are you at home to Mr. Bingley, sir?”

  “Yes.” Darcy watched the man disappear, closing the door. He could do with a break. Bingley likely wanted to finalize their plans to travel to Hertfordshire. Doing so in person would preempt the need to add more correspondences to the pile.

  While he waited, Darcy organized his papers into several neat stacks, stowing most of them in the desk. It wasn’t in an effort to keep Bingley from his affairs. Bingley knew most of Darcy’s ventures in detail, and wasn’t one to pry, regardless. He simply preferred his desk in order.

  Another knock was followed by the arrival of Bingley. As he entered, Darcy gestured to the seat across from him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Bingley didn’t sit, Darcy’s first indication he was agitated. He stood in the middle of the room, a slight frown on his face. Darcy sat straighter, wondering what could be the matter. Had Bingley decided not to travel to Netherfield after all? Had it occurred to him it might be awkward to encounter Miss Bennet? Or, more likely, Mrs. Kent was holding Bingley’s attention more firmly than Darcy would have imagined. The brief report Richard had made on the subject hadn’t convinced Darcy there was anything serious, but Richard had also said he’d not stayed in the room for long and so observed little.

  Abruptly, Bingley claimed the offered seat. “Darcy, why do you think we are friends?”

  The question wasn’t what Darcy was expecting to hear, but answering didn’t take much thought. Everyone liked Bingley. Men liked him because he was an asset at a party, holding up his share of conversation when appropriate. He was generally up for riding, hunting, billiards or any other activity, and never stingy with his coin. Mothers and their daughters liked him because he was amiable, always willing to dance, and, on the marriage market, he was a good catch. So much so, Darcy had even considered him for Georgiana. He’d set aside the idea because of the complete indifference on both sides, but he would have welcomed it. On top of all that, Bingley genuinely liked almost everyone he met and showed it. “You are pleasant, have a good character, have--”

  “I don’t care why you’re friends with me. Almost everyone who isn’t a total snob wants to be my friend. I’m the harmless puppy all reasonable people like. Why am I friends with you?”

  That flummoxed Darcy. He’d never given it any thought. “I don’t know.”

  Bingley smiled slightly. “I hate to say it, but you are a proud one, aren’t you? Most people would have wondered at it, at least once.”

  Darcy had nothing to say to that. Though he was taciturn, he was accustomed to people seeking his company. True, it was usually for his wealth and status, but it need only start that way. His and Bingley’s friendship had moved well beyond that.

  “Do you remember when I bought that showy bay gelding and you criticized it as all flash and no substance, which turned out to be true?”

  Darcy nodded.

  “Do you remember when I said my handwriting was bad because my thoughts came too quickly and you pointed out that I was actually bragging about how fast I thought and wrote?”

  Darcy nodded again. Was Bingley about to break off their friendship? If Darcy being honest didn’t suit Bingley, as difficult as it would be, ending their association was likely for the best.

  “You are the only one who criticizes me.”

  “Your sisters--”

  “My sisters never stop criticizing me.”

  Darcy stared at him, wondering if Bingley had been drinking, though the hour was early. “You aren’t making sense.”

  Bingley frowned. “Do you remember that girl in Hertfordshire, the pretty one? Miss Elizabeth’s sister.”

  “Miss Jane Bennet,” Darcy supplied, not liking the turn in the conversation.

  “Yes. I almost married her. You were right to stop me. That’s the sort of criticism I’m speaking of.”

  “Your sisters also didn’t want you to marry her.” It was obvious Anne still hadn’t let out that Darcy was courting Elizabeth. Of course, it was a subtle thing to impart such gossip. Likely, Anne didn’t know how to go about it. Darcy certainly didn’t. “How was my addition to your sisters’ objections more meaningful?”

  “Because you only offer caution where caution is due. My sisters disparage most any woman I meet. They’ll only be happy with someone of great wealth and rank, and would prefer I marry your sister. Miss Bennet didn’t embody a single quality they value.”

  “Miss Bennet is beautiful, kind and sweet tempered. She would make any man an excellent wife.”

  Bingley’s brow creased. “You said she didn’t love me and her family was intolerable.”

  “Her family was intolerable,” Darcy agreed, though it was a point of which he didn’t care to be reminded. “I didn’t say she didn’t love you. I said I thought she didn’t love you. I may have been wrong. At the least, she liked you.”

  “It doesn't matter.” Bingley shrugged.

  Darcy was surprised at how much the careless motion aggravated him. Though he’d little to say about Mrs. Kent, Richard had supplied an extended description of how brokenhearted Miss Bennet was to see Bingley with another woman. Yet here was Bingley, shrugging off the broken heart of a gentle soul as if it meant nothing.

  “Miss Bennet was wrong for me,” Bingley continued, apparently oblivious to Darcy’s uncharitable turn of temper. “Furthermore, you were right about her family. They’re practically deranged, barring Miss Eliza
beth and possibly the father. The younger daughters are uncontrolled, and may never marry. I would have ended up with the three of them and that atrocious mother living with me. Can you imagine?” Bingley grimaced.

  “I can.” Darcy kept his tone neutral. “I also imagine, though, that her family situation wouldn’t really have mattered to you, had you loved each other.”

  “Love?” Bingley chuckled, as if Darcy had made a joke. “She may have loved me and I will admit I thought I loved her, but I’ve thought that before, haven’t I? I was certainly angry with you and my sisters for insisting we separate, but I only missed her for a week or two. Then I met this girl.”

  “Mrs. Kent?” How could anyone favor that gaudy widow over someone as sweet as Miss Bennet?

  Bingley shook his head. “There was this girl in Scarborough. The details don’t matter, but a day with her and I’d forgotten all about Miss Bennet.”

  “How long did that last?” Darcy wanted to add, and how long did getting over her take, but restrained himself.

  “About a month, but that’s not the point. The point is, I’ve realized why Miss Bennet was so wrong for me. At least, the reason that matters most. I need a wife who will disagree with me.”

  Darcy frowned. Bingley was speaking without reason again. “You despise argument.”

  “Not a wife who argues with me, but who is willing to disagree with me,” Bingley said. “Miss Bennet never would have. She was too sweet tempered. I need someone who will keep me from doing foolish things.”

  “You want a wife who won’t permit you to purchase a showy horse that doesn’t have the stamina for a hunt, let alone a journey?”

  “Exactly.”

  Darcy’s eyes returned to the clock. He was finding Bingley’s company less pleasant than usual, and he still had letters to see to. “Fascinating. I’m glad you came by to share your revelation.”

  Bingley chuckled again. “Right, you wish me to approach the point. I’ve decided it’s time to be married.”

  “To Mrs. Kent?” Darcy suppressed a sigh. It was his duty to talk Bingley out of it, of course, but he wasn’t looking forward to it. Perhaps the conversation would wait until they were in Hertfordshire. Once there, it may not even be necessary. Bingley was sure to forget about the widow the moment he set eyes on another pretty girl. Unfortunately, they already knew most of the pretty girls near Netherfield Park, and Bingley had already thrown over the most amiable one.