The Second Mrs. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Novella

by Renata McMann

  After Lydia and Wickham left, which wasn’t soon enough for Elizabeth’s liking, there was still much discussion of Elizabeth’s role in bringing about the marriage. Mrs. Bennet was clearly baffled. She didn’t understand how anyone could like Elizabeth so much, but Jane defended her good qualities, in her unassuming way.

  Mrs. Bennet did concede that she appreciated Elizabeth helping bring about such a fine match for Lydia. She gave the Darcy’s less credit for it than they deserved and Lydia received no disapproval. Mr. Bennet suggested she charm other wealthy people to marry off her sisters in reverse order of birth, since that was where she started. This pleased Kitty and Mary, not realizing Mr. Bennet gave a veiled insult, since he would prefer they leave Longbourn before Jane and Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth retired as early as possible. Though her mind was too full to sleep, it was also too worn to tolerate any more time with her mother and younger sisters. She envied Anne Darcy. For the fact that she was now mistress of her own home. For the resources that allowed her to save Lydia’s reputation, and shield Elizabeth and her sisters from the shame of scandal. And, she admitted as her mind finally slipped toward sleep, recalling an image of one of Darcy’s rare smiles, perhaps for other things.

  Chapter 5

  “Of course you must go,” Anne said. “Georgiana needs you.”

  “Our aunt is perfectly capable of handling her. My place is at your side,” Darcy said. He wasn’t fond of the London season but under other circumstances would have gone, knowing his presence would make it easier for Georgiana. He felt his duty lay in being with his pregnant wife, however, and used that truth to obscure his other reason for staying. He loved Pemberley, and had come to realize Anne did not. He found he resented his wife’s indifference to his home and was loath to leave her in command of what he held so dear.

  “Georgiana will be much more comfortable with you being there,” Anne said. She had that note in her voice. The one he knew meant he would have no peace until he conceded. No one in his life ever argued with Darcy as Anne did. He was accustomed to people giving in to his wishes, and didn’t know how to reiterate them, in the face of continued refusal, without being rude. Out of deference to her nerves, and his, he acquiesced, sending a silent apology to his cherished estate.

  Anne wouldn’t hurt Pemberley, he knew. She was more likely to ignore it, and his staff was capable of handling issues that she didn’t bother with. Before he left, because it was the correct thing to do, he ordered Mrs. Reynolds to obey Anne, even though he trusted his housekeeper more than his wife.

  Darcy realized he should be grateful that Anne didn’t resent his concern about Georgiana’s first season. For any faults he may see in his wife, he admitted she showed a remarkable absence of jealousy. That this lack stemmed from a complete and unassailable disregard for his affection was, perhaps, his own fault. Not for lack of trying to engage her, for he did, but for not stipulating regard as one of the contingencies on which to base their marriage before he committed to it.

  Relieved to be able to turn his thoughts from Anne, he moved to contemplating the happier notion of his sister’s joy when he arrived in London. He resolved to join her for every large party and even to act sociably, dancing with the wallflowers. Now that he was no longer an eligible bachelor, he knew he wouldn’t be quite so welcome in London, but if he behaved well enough society would accept him. He pressed his lips into a grim line. The irony of having to turn himself into an asset at parties in order to be invited where he wanted to go was not lost on him.

  Darcy continued to contemplate his new role of trying to be affable as he traveled to London, formulating a plan. Shortly before he arrived, it occurred to him that he would be criticized for not bringing his wife with him to London and he wrestled with how to spread word of her health and condition without seeming to have spoken of such untoward gossip.

  This fissure in his new persona of likeability was shored up, he found, before he even took action to counter it. He soon learned that any criticism of his perceived oafishness was muted by Anne. In one of her frequent bouts of thoughtfulness, which Darcy still could not reconcile with the more devious side of her nature, she wrote several of their mutual relatives that she was grateful he didn’t force her to make the trip. He once again tried to muster gratitude for his wife, but in his heart he wasn’t sure if he could ever resolve her daily actions with the deceit of spying on and trapping him.

  When Elizabeth received the letter from Mrs. Darcy, she was filled with trepidation. Could Anne Darcy have found out that her husband proposed to Elizabeth before proposing to her? Did the carefully folded pages contain the recrimination of a woman who had shown Elizabeth nothing but kindness?

  Elizabeth steeled herself to reasonableness. Even if Mr. Darcy told Anne about his failed proposal to her, an embarrassment Elizabeth couldn’t see Darcy imposing upon himself, she knew Anne to be a sensible person. Elizabeth could hardly be blamed for Anne de Bourgh being Darcy’s second choice, and Anne Darcy had come out ahead, hadn’t she? After all, she had his regard now, and Elizabeth had nothing but the added estrangement of now being legally related to Wickham.

  She opened the letter and read it, surprised at the invitation contained within. Surely, this was proof Anne still didn’t know of Darcy’s onetime feelings for Elizabeth. Her worry was once again replaced by guilt, though she knew herself to be blameless for Anne Darcy’s ignorance. It was her husband’s place, if anyone’s, to tell her of the esteem he once held Elizabeth in. Still, she felt it would be dishonest, accepting kindness from a woman who had justifiable reason for keeping her at arm’s length.

  Yet, she felt a strong pull toward Pemberley. She knew that draw to be only partially because of the beauty of Pemberley and partially because it was his home. No good could come of being there, with the very essence of Mr. Darcy all around her. Yet, he would be safely in London.

  Unsure at her own feelings, let alone what response to give, she resolved to read the letter to her parents at dinner. Later, at the table, it took Elizabeth some time to break through the incessant chatter of her mother, Mary and Kitty, but once the author of the letter she held was revealed, all fell into eager silence. Holding the letter before her, Elizabeth read:

  Dear Miss Bennet,

  I would love to have you visit me at Pemberley. Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy will be in London for the season, since she is coming out. My indifferent health does not allow me to participate in this. While I prefer the comforts of Pemberley to the bustle of London, I find it lonely. Please allow me to send a carriage and a maid to escort you to Pemberley….

  “Of course you must go,” said Mrs. Bennet, breaking into Elizabeth’s reading. “She might introduce you to some eligible young men.”

  “After your trip to Kent and your tour with the Gardiners, I am aware of how much I will miss you,” Mr. Bennet said. “However, considering what she did for Lydia, you really must go.”

  “You really must,” Jane murmured. “Though I shall miss you, too.”

  Elizabeth took Jane’s hand. Since returning from her tour she’d grown increasingly worried about her older sister. Jane was quiet, even for her, and spent much of her time holding a book or embroidery, but doing nothing. Elizabeth was sure her sister was still brokenhearted. Maybe, if she went, she could tell Mrs. Darcy just that small detail of her interactions with Mr. Darcy. Just enough to enlist Anne’s aid in bringing Jane and Mr. Bingley together.

  “What else did she say?" Mary demanded, looking a bit envious.

  Mrs. Darcy warned Elizabeth to bring warm clothing and gave more details about her journey. At her mother’s urging, Elizabeth wrote her acceptance. She spent the intervening time packing, but found she had no other details to attend to. The middle aged woman who came with the carriage arranged everything.

  When she arrived at Pemberley, after a long journey made no easier by her companion’s taciturn nature and her own nervousness about the wisdom of her decision to come, Anne Darcy greeted her at
the door. To Elizabeth’s shock, Mrs. Darcy was visibly pregnant. Though she was sure she bore no strong feelings for Mr. Darcy, and knew him to be a happily married man, Elizabeth was taken aback by such formidable evidence of his marital contentment.

  Fortunately, as she was rendered speechless by how fully unprepared she was for Mrs. Darcy’s condition, Elizabeth was saved by Anne’s warm greeting. Elizabeth realized she’d assumed, when Mrs. Darcy cited her health as reason for not going to London, that it was no more than the ongoing frailness of her constitution. It was disconcerting that Mrs. Darcy hadn’t mentioned her gravid condition. She continued in that vein, to Elizabeth’s growing discomfort, until after dinner.

  “You may wonder that Mr. Darcy isn’t here for my pregnancy,” she said.

  Elizabeth shook her head. Although she did not think Mr. Darcy would ignore any responsibility, many men gave their wives no special attention during pregnancy.

  “I didn’t want Georgiana to be deprived of her season because of something she had no control over, and I knew having her brother absent would inhibit the poor dear to the point of deprivation. I missed my chance at a season because of the death of my father, and was never well enough to have one later.”

  “I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said, unable to think of anything else to say. She was, she found, still nervous in Mrs. Darcy’s company, feeling as she did, like she carried a grave secret. She was also a bit startled both by how forthcoming her hostess was and her uncharacteristic verbosity. Married life must agree with Mrs. Darcy as well.

  “My aunt, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s mother, is bringing out her youngest daughter. Georgiana will share in all the activities. Georgiana is more comfortable with people she knows, which should make the season easier for her. If she doesn’t find a husband this season, she can have another season next year. By then, she should be more confident about London and will be fine without her cousin. Next year, I hope I will be well enough to join her in London and offer guidance of my own, such as it will be.”

  “Under the circumstances, I’m surprised Mr. Darcy feels he needs to be there,” Elizabeth said. Realizing her words may be taken as criticism, she hastened to add. “I was under the impression he was not fond of parties.”

  Mrs. Darcy smiled at this. “He hates them. But Miss Darcy fears them, and my husband will always do his duty to those he feels responsible for. I don’t need him here, I need a woman friend.”

  “I would have thought…” Elizabeth broke off, not wanting to suggest that Mrs. Darcy should have a friend who was closer to her. She obviously didn’t. Recovering, she said, “Wouldn’t Mrs. Jenkinson be a better choice than me?”

  “No. She was my mother’s choice, not mine. I hoped to make friends with Mrs. Collins, but it’s clear that she cannot leave her husband alone for long. He isn’t competent enough to manage by himself. If work is done in the parish, she does it. She’s a remarkable woman. I was delighted when she moved in. Unfortunately, my mother kept me from making friends with anyone. She thought having a companion was enough. But Mrs. Jenkinson was loyal to my mother, not me.”

  “How unfortunate,” Elizabeth said. Though she was pleased by the praise of Charlotte, she was still taken aback by Mrs. Darcy’s forthrightness. She never thought she would pity someone with great wealth, but she pitied Anne Darcy. She lived a very constricted life. Perhaps her inviting someone as far beneath her as Elizabeth was a rebellion, of sorts.

  “Yes, it was. Because of that, I want you to promise me something. I’m so sick of people reporting to my mother behind my back. If I didn’t eat my breakfast, my mother would know it. I don’t want that here.”

  “That’s understandable,” Elizabeth said, her pity for Anne growing. “What do you want me to promise you?”

  “That you won’t write my mother or Mr. Darcy about me, no matter what happens. That is, unless I die. Then someone will have to write them.”

  “That’s an easy promise to keep,” Elizabeth said, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the morbid nature of Mrs. Darcy’s statement. She knew Mrs. Darcy’s health was poor, but it seemed ill omened to speak so openly about such a terrible eventuality. “I wouldn’t presume to write either Mr. Darcy or your mother.” She wasn’t on terms with Lady Catherine to write her. As for Mr. Darcy, how could she write him about anything?

  “You promise?” Anne asked, eerily intent.

  “Yes, of course.”

  Chapter 6

  Mrs. Darcy planned for Elizabeth’s entertainment. Once or twice a week, a local family was invited to Pemberley to dinner. Mrs. Darcy found the trip to neighboring estates too much to cope with, and she explained she didn’t like large parties. She preferred the more intimate nature of a smaller gathering where she could observe and listen to all that went on. Not long after each dinner, Mrs. Darcy would plead fatigue and retire. Most families would take that as their cue to depart, to Elizabeth’s relief. She didn’t want to be responsible for entertaining their guests alone. On two occasions, there were eligible young men, and they were seated next to Elizabeth, but in those short acquaintance all she achieved was pleasant conversation for the evening, not anything resembling courtship.

  Since Mrs. Darcy slept every afternoon, Elizabeth filled her time with long walks about the magnificent grounds and the countryside beyond, and hours of indulging in selecting new books to read in Pemberley’s extensive library. If the weather was particularly nice, Mrs. Darcy took Elizabeth on a carriage ride, usually just around Pemberley. Once, they went to Lambton to visit the wet nurse Mrs. Darcy planned to use, a broad-faced, complacent woman with a toddler.

  They attended church every Sunday. Elizabeth enjoyed listening to a different clergyman. Reverend Barton, a pleasant man in his thirties, was a gifted speaker. His sermons suggested a stricter morality than the laissez fair attitude of the Meryton sermons but lacked the antagonizing sanctimoniousness of Mr. Collins’. Elizabeth briefly wondered if Lydia would have benefited from Reverend Barton’s sermons. Probably not, since she and Kitty rarely listened in Meryton. Certainly, though, Jane and Mary would appreciate them.

  As the days passed, Elizabeth grew more comfortable in Mrs. Darcy’s company. She no longer had to remind herself that it wasn’t her place to tell Mrs. Darcy anything, for she stopped thinking of Darcy’s proposal to her as some grave secret. It was obvious that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were quite happy, relegating Elizabeth’s place in his affections firmly and unalterably in the past. Where, she told herself, it unequivocally belonged.

  On one of her afternoon walks, Elizabeth passed a tenant cottage where a woman was getting firewood from a well-stocked woodpile. The woman was heavily pregnant, further along than Mrs. Darcy. Feeling she shouldn’t be straining herself, Elizabeth asked, “Can I help you carry some of that?”

  “You’re visiting the manor house?” The woman asked. Elizabeth nodded. “You’ll dirty your clothes, miss.”

  “I’m more concerned about you carrying so much.” Elizabeth picked up a load of wood, knowing the laundress at Pemberley would attend to any dirt. There was no firewood in the cottage, causing Elizabeth to take enough trips to fill the space reserved for it. “Can’t your husband do this?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Nay,” the woman said. “My husband died two months ago. My son is out shoring up the road. He’ll want a good meal when he comes home.” The woman offered her tea, which Elizabeth declined, knowing the price of tea could take a toll on a tenant farmer’s income.

  Elizabeth claimed to be tired, though she wasn’t, and asked to sit down and rest a while. Familiar with the pride of country folk, she wanted to allow the cottager to do something for her, in return for her labor. The cottager introduced herself as Nelly Douglas. She was very eager to have someone to talk to. Her son was seventeen and doing a man’s work. The son was trying to earn a little extra money before the baby was born. Within a very short time, Nelly told Elizabeth a great deal about her situation. Her two daughters were knee deep in their own children. One was in Lambton
and the other nearby on another tenant farm.

  At dinner that evening, Mrs. Darcy asked her, as was her custom, “How was your walk?”

  “Enjoyable. I met one of your tenants, a woman named Nelly Douglas. She is very pregnant, widowed, and alone all day. I’m concerned if she goes into labor, she’ll have no one near to help her.” Elizabeth chose her phrasing carefully, trying not to sound as if she were presuming to advise Anne, who was, after all, mistress of Pemberley.

  “Do you think I should do something?” Anne gratified Elizabeth by asking.

  “I don’t know if it’s your responsibility or that of your steward,” Elizabeth said, still unwilling to overstep.

  “I’ll inquire.”

  Anne found her steward was aware of the situation, as she’d assumed he would be. One of the things she enjoyed about being mistress of Pemberley was that it all but ran itself. She needn’t concern herself with any details she didn’t take an interest in, and those were quite few. Darcy handled everything or had someone who did.

  To reassure Elizabeth, Anne informed her that Nelly Douglas was checked on a couple of times a day and arrangements were already made for a neighbor to stay with her after the baby was born. They knew about the son’s absence, since it was a project sponsored by Pemberley to keep the road open between Pemberley and Lambton. She explained this to Elizabeth, who asked tentatively, “Is it the custom here to arrange gifts for the new baby?”

  “I’m not certain,” Anne said. “But what would she need? Our steward said this is her eleventh child, although only three lived to adulthood. Most died as babies. Surely, there are enough baby clothes and diapers.” Anne couldn’t fathom being with child eleven times, nor want to think about babies dying. She allowed her tone to be a bit abrupt, hoping Elizabeth would select another topic.