Courting Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  It was then that he noticed Henry withdrawing from the floor, apologizing to his partner profusely. Darcy wasn’t very near, but he caught snippets of Henry complaining about his leg. His cousin took a seat with an excellent view of the dancers, chatting away amiable with the girl he’d been partnering.

  “Is everything well, Mr. Darcy?” the young woman Darcy was dancing with asked when the steps next allowed.

  “Yes.” Darcy added a pleasant smile to that syllable.

  She followed his gaze. “You must be worried about your cousin. We all heard of his fall.”

  Fortunately, the steps drew Darcy away, alleviating the need to respond, for Henry was not who he was worried for.

  From that point on, Darcy observed that Henry, though always carrying on in lively conversation, sat in such a way as to have a good view of wherever Elizabeth was. Darcy was unsure if his cousin’s leg truly pained him or not, but he was sure Henry was helping him keep an eye on Elizabeth. He soon realized Richard was using his soldier’s eyes, not so much to look at Elizabeth, but to sweep the area around her. Their efforts lent him some assurance, permitting him more calm.

  The daughter of their host, a better player than many they’d come across thus far in Hertfordshire, took her turn at the piano and didn’t bother leaving for some time, which also added to the enjoyment of the evening. Normally, if a girl lingered behind the keys for more than a few sets, a flustered mama would intervene. Darcy observed sardonically that, without an earl offering to dance with each young lady who played, switching out performers had become unimportant.

  As the evening moved on, much to Darcy’s surprise, Miss Lydia danced far less than usual. She seemed to prefer Henry’s stories instead. Darcy, considering himself a good judge of husband seeking misses, felt most of the women who clustered around the earl listening to his tales of hunting, racing and general trouble making, did so with false curiosity. Miss Lydia, on the other hand, displayed genuine interest.

  “. . . of you not to invite me to the race,” Miss Lydia was saying, her tone pouting, as the steps of a dance drew Darcy near where Henry sat. “I should have loved to see you beat Mr. Darcy. I would have cheered and cheered.”

  “Next time, pet,” Henry said. “You shan’t be disappointed. I often beat Darcy.”

  Miss Lydia laughed.

  Darcy shook his head, not slowing his steps. He had no doubt Henry had seen him passing.

  It was with something akin to relief that Darcy finally managed to wend his way to Elizabeth. With the plethora of women thrown in his way and her complete lack of shortage for partners, he’d begun to suspect a conspiracy to keep them apart. By the time he found himself standing up with her, he’d already danced with two of her sisters, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, more than a few wallflowers, and Anne. He’d missed having Elizabeth on his arm. Once he finally did, she smiled up at him.

  “If I’d realized taking your advice would mean I wouldn’t be able to partner you, I should have remained aloof,” he said.

  Her smiled turned into a laugh. “But how can you not understand that seeing you create so much happiness makes me desire my turn so much more?”

  “Does their pleasure come from my rank and wealth?” he asked, knowing it didn’t stem from his conversation. “Or perhaps more accurately, my eligibility?”

  “In very small part. Everyone knows you’re courting me, after all.”

  Darcy tried to smooth his frown, but he couldn’t be pleased with her unknowing reminder that he’d put her in danger.

  “It’s more to do with you being an exceedingly well favored gentleman,” she said when next the steps brought them near. “You are also an excellent dancer.”

  “I was well taught. It has nothing to do with me.” He realized he sounded curt and reminded himself his anger was neither directed at Elizabeth nor known to her.

  She tipped her head to the side, studying him. “You have a natural grace, and I’m sure you’ve cultivated it. Also, I believe you are learning how to be amiable to your partners.”

  He smiled slightly, realizing she sensed his mood and sought to cheer him. “I doubt I am amiable to any but you.”

  “Not so.” She shook her head, making the loose curls framing her face dance. “Their expressions tell me they’re happy, and the gossip that makes its way back to me confirms it. My mother is annoyed at it, because it makes her doubt you are a serious suitor.”

  Darcy turned that over in his mind, wondering if he could use it to his advantage. Should he flirt with other women? Would that make Elizabeth safe? What if, as his cousin suggested, nothing would make her safe? Not in Hertfordshire, at least. Surely, were she removed, she would be infinitely more secure. The sort of men who would do Lady Catherine’s bidding weren’t likely to have the means to track Elizabeth down if she changed vicinities.

  “Mr. Darcy?” she asked.

  He looked down to see her frowning up at him. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Are you well?” Her eyes held touching concern.

  Casting a quick look about the room, Darcy made a decision. Elizabeth should know of her own peril. “I must speak to you in private. It’s important.” He kept his voice low.

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “Exceedingly important,” he said, permitting some of the desperation he felt for her safety to color his tone. Would them leaving together be noted? He didn’t want to cause her embarrassment, but he was resolved to keep her safe. “A few minutes after this dance, I will leave by the front door and circle around to the terrace. Give me a moment to get there, then walk out on the terrace and head for the garden.”

  She regarded him for a long moment, during which he worried she would refuse. Finally, she nodded.

  They finished the dance without speaking again. Elizabeth appeared intrigued, perhaps even hopeful, but permitted him his silence. After bowing to her with a smile he hoped didn’t look as strained as it felt, Darcy made his way to Richard.

  “A word,” he said, cutting his cousin off before he could approach another partner.

  “Of course.”

  He led Richard to the foyer.

  “Is something amiss?” Richard asked, his tone quiet.

  “No. I’m going to talk to Elizabeth in the garden. She should know she’s in danger.”

  “In the garden?”

  “I can’t tell her in there.” He gestured back toward the assemblage. “Someone might overhear, or she may not be able to master her reaction to the news.” Darcy didn’t think Elizabeth was the sort to panic, but it wasn’t every day you were told someone had been asked to murder you.

  “I see. Not to mention, if you happen to get caught, her mother would insist that you marry her.”

  “That is not my goal.”

  “No, of course not.”

  Darcy shot him a scowl. “I know you and Henry are keeping an eye on her. Thank you for that. Can you let him know she’s going to be with me? I don’t need either of you to follow her into the garden.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  “Thank you.”

  Darcy slipped out of the house and made his way to the terrace. It was a warm night, and their host had every door and window thrown wide to let in the air. A few others lingered outside, standing in the rectangles of candlelight spilling out and speaking in small groups. The moon was very bright, but low on the horizon. It cast slanting shadows across an already dark ground.

  Elizabeth walked out onto the terrace and moved away from the groups of people. When her scanning eyes alighted on him, she wandered his way casually, as if merely trying to escape the heat.

  He held himself in the shadows until she reached him, then offered her his arm. She placed her white-gloved hand atop it, using the other to hold her skirt up from the gravel walk. In silence, they headed down a path. Darcy couldn’t help but glance at her every few seconds. In the moonlight, she was luminous, seeming to cast a glow of her own. She appeared hardly real.

  When they reache
d a spot where they could still see the brightly lit rooms twinkling between interlacing branches, but it was unlikely they could be seen, even with the moonlight, she let go of his arm, stepping away. “Mr. Darcy, I hope you have a good reason for asking me here. This is quite scandalous and goes against all good breeding and sense. I’d like to think I haven’t thrown off years of propriety for anything insignificant.” Her voice was low, but he heard the amusement lurking in her tone.

  Darcy resisted the urge to close the distance between them, for she’d put it there. When he’d asked to speak in private, he hadn’t been prepared for the intimacy of the experience. To have Elizabeth alone in the dark garden, bathed in moonlight, struck a longing in him he wasn’t sure he could withstand. “I’m afraid it is serious. Alarmingly so.”

  “Oh dear, you do sound dire.”

  “Mr. Wickham came to meet with me today.”

  “Mr. Wickham?” The moonlight revealed confusion on her face.

  “Lady Catherine wrote to him.” He couldn’t keep the harshness from his tone. “This isn’t going to be easy for you to hear.”

  “Mr. Darcy, you’re worrying me.”

  “Then we are both worried, as are Henry, Richard and Bingley, for they were with me for the meeting. Lady Catherine asked Wickham to marry you.” Elizabeth gasped, but Darcy pressed on. “She offered him three thousand pounds to do so.”

  Her eyes were wide with surprise. “That’s quite the sum, but he must know I will never marry him.”

  “He does know, which is why he came to me.” He moved closer to her, unable to help himself. Somehow, it made him feel he was offering her protection from his next words. “She also intimated she would pay him for removing you in any other way he saw fit, and threatened dire retribution should he fail to do so.”

  She went still. “In any way? Meaning what?”

  “We aren’t certain. He wasn’t, either. He came to me asking for help. I’ve bought him passage to Canada.”

  Elizabeth sagged, her expression relieved. Darcy reached toward her, but she didn’t faint. He let his arm fall back to his side.

  “So I am safe.” She smiled up at him. “Thank you. I’m sure, knowing Mr. Wickham, you were forced to provide him funds as well.”

  He nodded. “I was, but we are not sure you are safe. Lady Catherine sent two of her servants and her coach. We have no way to know if they attempted to hire any other miscreants, or if they succeeded.”

  Elizabeth went still. “Two servants and her coach?” she repeated in a small voice.

  Even by moonlight he could see her face had lost all color. She swayed. Darcy closed the remaining distance between them, wrapping her in his arms. He didn’t mean to do it. As soon as he did, he remembered he ought not, but as soon as he did, he knew there was no way he could let go.

  “What must we do?” she murmured, her cheek pressed to his chest. “Does this mean you shall stop courting me? Do you wish for me to decline your offer of marriage?”

  Did he imagine the sorrow in her voice? “We don’t know that would help.” As he spoke, he was acutely aware of the light scent she wore wreaking havoc on his wits. “If she’s hired ruffians, she likely has no means of calling them off. Bingley is going to ask Miss de Bourgh to marry him, or perhaps already has. If she says yes, once Lady Catherine acknowledges the union, things should get better. She won’t have any reason to come after you again.” He hoped. His aunt was so vindictive and seemed so crazy in her actions, he worried she might lash out at Elizabeth in some demented attempt at revenge.

  Darcy pushed that thought aside. There would be time to worry over vengeance from Lady Catherine later. They would likely have warning. His aunt wasn’t one to conceal her ire. He held Elizabeth tight, wishing he could do more to comfort her.

  “So we shall do nothing? I will live my days knowing someone may be out there, watching me and plotting who knows what?” She pushed him away enough to look up at him. “I will not be thrown into another carriage. I won’t.”

  Darcy’s heart lurched at the terror underlying her tone. He tilted his head down and covered her lips with his, taking them in a long, lingering kiss to drive her fear away. When he lifted his head she was swaying, or perhaps he was, so he held her tighter. He drew in a ragged breath, steadying himself. He would never be able to let her go. He would make her his, and he would keep her from harm. “No, we won’t do nothing. Come to Pemberley with me. Let me keep you safe.”

  “To Pemberley?” she breathed, leaning her head back to look up at him again, her eyes wide.

  “Yes. Be my wife, Elizabeth. I love you. I won’t stop loving you. Ever.”

  She searched his face with her gaze. He worked to still his nerves. She couldn’t say no this time, could she? Was he that poor a judge of her? She seemed so amiable, so pleasant, and happy to be around him. When they kissed, he’d felt the hesitancy of inexperience, but her lips were soft and pliable under his. How could—

  “Yes. I will marry you. I love you.”

  All thought fled as he once again took her lips under his. It wasn’t until his hand, seeking to burry itself in her hair, encountered the resistance of pins that Darcy came back to himself. Slowly, agonizingly, he forced himself to draw away. He placed his hands on her shoulders, once again unsure which of them needed steadying more.

  Elizabeth blinked up at him, looking dazed. As her expression cleared, mischief flittered across it. “That was definitely, by far, the most fun I’ve ever had at a party.”

  Darcy suppressed a bark of laughter, knowing they weren’t far enough from the house that it wouldn’t be heard. “I should hope so.”

  “Will you speak to my father soon?” She blushed.

  “I will, but we dare not announce our engagement until Anne takes control of Rosings or is married. Who knows what acts of madness us becoming engaged would drive my deranged relative to.” Some of the harshness returned to his tone as he spoke.

  Elizabeth nodded. “Let’s not speak of that now. I mean for this to be a happy occasion, and you are frowning.” She reached up, tracing the curve of his mouth with a light touch. A devilish smile formed on her face. “One more kiss, and then we’ll go in.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The carriage ride back to Netherfield was as silent as the one away from it had been. Once again, Darcy didn’t mind. He felt quite unable to converse. In spite of his fears for Elizabeth’s safety, he had to concentrate to keep a grin from his face.

  Reaching Netherfield Park, both carriages emptied of passengers. Darcy, along with the others, made his way into their favorite evening parlor, filled with plush sofas and broad-armed chairs. He selected a seat away from the fire, feeling no need for additional warmth.

  “It was a lovely evening,” Anne said from the doorway. “I bid you all goodnight.” She turned and glided away.

  Darcy eyed her retreating back for the brief moment it remained in view. She hadn’t so much as looked at Bingley. It was her custom to retire immediately following a party, but Darcy had expected . . . something. He glanced at Bingley, but couldn’t read his face. Perhaps he hadn’t found the opportunity to pose his question to Anne yet.

  “I’m headed to bed as well,” Henry said from where he stood near the fire.

  “So early, my lord?” Miss Bingley asked. She pursed her lips in a pout.

  “There are times even I tire. Good night all.” Henry left to a chorus of well wishes.

  Darcy looked to Richard, wondering if Henry truly had injured himself in the race. Normally, the earl was indefatigable. Richard, however, had stretched out on the sofa, his eyes closed. Darcy didn’t think he truly slept, but was beginning to suspect a collusion.

  To further the cause, which he assumed was to politely rid themselves of Miss Bingley and the Hursts, he picked up a nearby book and proceeded to read. He often read before he retired, so his behavior wasn’t all that unusual. Bingley seated himself near his sisters and Mr. Hurst, engaging them in dull conversation. It wasn’t lo
ng before Mr. Hurst began to doze.

  “Well, I can see the lot of you aren’t going to be of any more entertainment this evening.” Mrs. Hurst glanced about the room. “Finally danced yourselves to boredom, I see. It was inevitable. There’s only so much one can take of partnering common country girls. They were bound to sink you into a state of ennui eventually.”

  Darcy lowered his book to see her stand, and politely mimicked the movement, one finger marking his place. With her foot, Mrs. Hurst nudged her husband.

  Mr. Hurst grunted, blinking up at her. “What is it, Louisa?”

  “It’s time to retire. Caroline, Charles, Mr. Darcy.” She nodded to each of them in turn. When she reached Richard in his pretend slumber, she frowned. Shrugging, she turned and sailed from the room.

  Mr. Hurst pulled himself from his chair to follow. “Night all.”

  Before Darcy retook his seat, Miss Bingley rose, looking about the room in annoyance. “Louisa is right.” She said her farewells and left.

  Silence descended on the room as her footsteps faded down the hall. Bingley leaned back in his chair, grinning at Darcy. Richard opened one eye, peered about, and sat up.

  “Do you think she’s really gone?” Bingley whispered.

  Richard held up a hand. On silent feet, he moved to the door and out. He returned a moment later, taking a seat near Bingley. “She went to her room. I doubt she’ll come back out tonight.”

  Darcy set his book on the table, joining them. “I have news.”

  “As do I,” Bingley said, looking smug.

  “A moment.” Richard held up his hand again. “Henry should return soon.”

  “Should I send for him?” Bingley asked.

  “No need.” Henry strode through the doorway. “I was waiting until I heard enough doors close to account for unwanted ears.” He seated himself in a chair near Richard. “Did you all have interesting evenings, then?”

  “I asked Elizabeth to marry me and she accepted.” Darcy said it as casually as he could, belying the joy in his heart.