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

by Renata McMann

  “How dare you disclose Anne’s deformity! You are unworthy of the name Darcy. You have no right to even be here. The only way you can get a husband is the same way your sisters did: by improper behavior.”

  “Miss Bennet never did anything improper,” Bingley said, ironically holding his betrothed much too close. Far from objecting to the impropriety of their embrace, Jane gazed up at Bingley with adoration, seemingly unaware Lady Catherine even spoke of them.

  “Neither did Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet said, though Darcy doubted that was true. “You may be a lady, but you aren’t acting like one. You come to a wedding where you weren’t even invited and make false accusations and try to claim other people are wrong. Get out. The wedding will go on.”

  “You impertinent—”

  “Get out! Leave. My daughters behave much better than you do.”

  Darcy was afraid Mrs. Bennet and his aunt would come to blows. “Leave,” he said in a deliberately quiet voice, hoping Lady Catherine would regain her calm if presented with his. “This wedding will take place. Kate needs a mother.” And I need a wife, he thought. A wife whom I love.

  “I will not be chased out by this low person,” Lady Catherine said, indicating Mrs. Bennet.

  “Then someone will take you out bodily,” Mrs. Bennet said smugly. “And I will be the only grandmother Kate will ever know.”

  Shocked, Lady Catherine turned back to Darcy. Though he was trying to exercise restraint, Darcy knew his face must reveal both anger and disgust at his aunt’s behavior. Taking a long look at him, she sat down and muttered, “Anne did say I had to be nice to her.” Darcy had no idea of what she was talking about. Much louder, Lady Catherine proclaimed, “You may proceed, since you won’t see reason. And her name is Catherine, not Kate.”

  Chapter 10

  The guests left, some right after the wedding breakfast and others later in the afternoon. Darcy was relieved he and Elizabeth would have Pemberley to themselves, though there was already talk of a celebration for Bingley’s and Jane’s engagement. They dined blissfully alone and, for once, Kate didn’t interrupt dinner, yet conversation didn’t flourish. He apologized for his aunt’s behavior and Elizabeth apologized for her mother’s, but they didn’t really discuss anything important.

  Elizabeth seemed somehow remote. More so than any time since his poorly worded second proposal and definitely more than a new bride should. Darcy was torn between professing his love, which he hoped would thaw her demeanor, and fear of saying anything to make matters more strained between them.

  Worse than that, his mind whispered, what if he confessed his love and she remained unswayed? He’d never been so fearful of rejection before. Why had he set his heart on the one woman in England who appeared not to dote on him?

  After a meal spent trying to read Elizabeth’s silences, Darcy approached the bed chamber with as much trepidation as anticipation. He hadn’t felt so unsure since boyhood. More than anything, he longed to make Elizabeth happy on their wedding night.

  He entered the room and crossed to the bed, unable to take his eyes from her, even had he wanted to. She was sitting against the headboard, her hair loose about her. He’d seen it in braids, he’d seen it up. Now, he wanted to see it caressing her breasts. Even if she didn’t love him as he wished, yet, he knew there was fire in Elizabeth. Surely, he could ignite passion between them.

  He reached for her, longing to remove the delicate nightgown that stood between him and paradise.

  Then he heard a wail from down the hall.

  Elizabeth automatically jumped when she heard Kate cry. She knew Kate’s hunger was no longer life-threatening, but the cries tore her eyes from her new husband toward the bedroom door. She glanced back at Darcy, questioning. Where moments ago she dared to think she saw passion, there was now something darkly unreadable in his gaze. He stepped back, gesturing for her to go.

  It pained her when he did so. She knew, as he said it often enough, that he only married her for Kate, but she’d hoped this one night, at least, they would be as lovers. It was, after all, their wedding night.

  Letting her loose hair fall around her face to hide both anger and hurt, Elizabeth hurried from the room. She took Kate to Nelly and watched her nurse. Kate didn’t fall asleep after she was finished, but fussed. Elizabeth picked her up and walked her back and forth, knowing that to put her down fussy would only lead to more crying. It was over an hour before Kate finally slept soundly enough for Elizabeth to put her in her crib, but she still fretted in her sleep, leaving Elizabeth tense with worry.

  She returned to her bedroom to find Darcy sitting in a chair, reading. Reading? How could he read on their wedding night? “She’s asleep, but will probably wake up soon. I think she has colic.” Elizabeth said.

  “I’m glad you’re so good a mother to her,” Darcy said, looking up from the page. He placed a finger to make his spot, the act fanning Elizabeth’s anger.

  “Isn’t that why you married me?” she snapped. “Because you love Kate?”

  “Of course, but I also proposed to you out of love.”

  “Which time?” she said, aware her tone was sullen.

  Her heart leapt at his words, but to her mind they sounded like platitudes. Once, just once, she wished he would show passion toward her. Not cold reason, or logic, or well-rehearsed phrases. Ever since his second proposal, she was beginning to wonder if she’d imagined the closeness and rare smiles that lead her to accept. She certainly hadn’t seen them since. Could they have been Darcy’s attempt at seduction, and she actually fell into it? That he hadn’t needed to muster more than the occasional smile to beguile her into this marriage stung her.

  He slammed the book shut, standing. “Certainly you must know I proposed out of love the first time,” he said. “I proposed out of love when there was absolutely no advantage to marrying you.”

  Elizabeth glared up at him, his words no longer affecting even her heart. So, he readily confessed that he proposed out of love only the first time, but not the second. He only proposed again because he compromised her and because she saved Kate. She pointed toward the door. She didn’t need love from a man made almost entirely of stone. Kate’s love would be enough. “I think you should leave,” she said angrily.

  After glaring at her for a moment, he tossed the book into the chair and left.

  Elizabeth stood where she was, listening to his steps moving away. They paused, and she was filled with the irrational hope that he was coming back, but then they continued. Once she could no longer hear him, she crawled back into bed. Realizing she obviously married a man who was still in love with his dead wife, Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing into tight ball, and cried.

  Kate woke three more times that night, though Elizabeth was only asleep the third time, having spent half the night in tears herself. Each time Kate woke, she cried unless Elizabeth walked her, even after being fed. When Kate’s cries filled the house a fourth time it was morning. A maid brought breakfast into Nelly’s room, where Elizabeth watched Kate nurse. “Mr. Darcy’s orders,” the maid said.

  He always treats his servants well, Elizabeth thought bitterly. He wouldn’t want his nursemaid to suffer from hunger. Kate still needed attention, but Elizabeth desperately needed sleep. She asked the maid to stay and watch Kate finish nursing, and stumbled to her bed. Elizabeth didn’t know for how long she was asleep when Darcy came into her room and woke her.

  He was saying something she didn’t understand, but finally the fog lifted and she heard, “Georgiana needs me. I have to go.” He left.

  When the door closed, Elizabeth found herself wide awake. She took her pillow and threw it at the door. Not only did they not have a wedding night, she couldn’t keep her husband interested in her for a single day. He hadn’t even kissed her goodbye.

  For the next several days, Kate occupied her time as much as she had when she was newborn. She developed a fever, which alarmed Elizabeth. Four days after the wedding, Kate slept for nearly the ent
ire day, and alarm turned to fear.

  Angry with him or no, Elizabeth was worried she would have to write to Darcy soon. Perhaps he could bring a physician from London and, if Kate didn’t get better, he would want to be there. His words the night he barged into her bedchamber came back to her. He would want to say goodbye to his daughter. The very thought pressed Elizabeth into tears. She resolved to wait one more day, unwilling to accept what writing him would mean.

  Then, that evening, she picked Kate up after a late feeding to find her skin less hot and no longer sweaty. Gratefully, Elizabeth realized the fever had broken. She smiled down at Kate, filled with relief, and Kate smiled back. It was the first time Kate had ever smiled, and the sight of it filled Elizabeth with joy, taking away days of sorrow, fear and anger.

  “She smiled,” she told Nelly, aware that she was all but grinning as she said it.

  “Most of them smile younger,” Nelly said, to Elizabeth’s chagrin. Nelly must have sensed Elizabeth’s displeasure, because she continued. “But she was born too early and that puts them back. She’s smiling now, which is all that matters.”

  Although Elizabeth was delighted with Kate’s smiles, she wasn’t happy that Kate’s illness led her to decide that nighttime was a good time to be awake and daytime was for sleeping. After several days of this, Elizabeth started waking Kate during the day. She didn’t like to make Kate cry, but was overjoyed that Kate was strong enough to be put on a more normal schedule of sleep.

  With Kate out of danger from what everyone assured her was a minor illness and sleeping better at night now than ever before, Elizabeth had leisure to brood over Darcy’s continued absence. Kate’s smiles encouraged her, but they weren’t enough. She was worried about their marriage and feeling she was becoming her mother. She felt very ill used. She received a brief note from Darcy saying Georgiana was better and he would not be home for at least a month.

  Well, she would spend that month making a few changes. She didn’t want to erase the existence of Anne, but she was now mistress of Pemberley and she had some authority. She would start in her bedroom.

  After making a few minor changes while fuming about Darcy, she calmed enough to realize he must have told her what Georgiana was recovering from while she was still asleep. After thinking it through, she swallowed her pride and wrote a letter asking him what happened. She was pleased to get an answer almost as quickly as one could arrive. Darcy wrote that the day after Georgiana’s wedding, she and her husband were in a carriage accident. Her husband was killed and Georgiana was injured.

  Elizabeth was horrified. All this time, she was blaming Darcy for leaving her. Of course he should have gone to help Georgiana. The rest of the letter concerned Georgiana’s family, who wanted Georgiana to stay until they were certain whether or not she was pregnant.

  Elizabeth wrote Darcy a letter thanking him for the explanation and detailing Kate’s progress. She wrote Georgiana a cheerful letter with little real content. Georgiana’s return letter was dictated to Darcy, because her arm was broken. Her left arm was fine, but she couldn’t write with it. That gave Elizabeth an idea. She found the name of Georgiana’s music master and wrote him a request.

  Darcy was beginning to think that perhaps he and his sister were under a curse. First, Georgiana almost eloped with Wickham. Then, Anne all but tricked him into marrying her. Both his and Georgiana’s recent weddings nearly failed to take place. Now, Georgiana’s husband was dead and Georgiana had a broken arm and cracked ribs. It made him despair of ever having a chance to win Elizabeth’s love.

  Georgiana’s deceased husband’s relatives tried to get her to renounce her claims against the estate, even giving up her dowry. Darcy sent for his doctor from London for Georgiana’s health and two lawyers for her financial wellbeing. When Darcy decided she was well enough to travel, they returned to Pemberley. Georgiana was now a widow with more money than she had before she was married and would be addressed as Lady Lawrence. She was also a sixteen year old girl who lost her husband. Her husband’s family was no support and she was a more tempting target for fortune hunters than ever before.

  Darcy needed Elizabeth to care for Georgiana as well as Kate. He wanted her as a wife, but he needed her for those he was responsible for. He couldn’t offend her. While Georgiana was getting settled, Darcy knocked on the door of the room connecting to his bedroom, the one Anne had occupied and Elizabeth slept in on their wedding night. Upon entering, he was pleased to see the ghastly furniture Anne brought from Rosings had been removed. A few pieces from other rooms were in their place. There were also different pictures on the walls and the green curtains were replaced with brown ones. The most noticeable change was that a crib for Kate was in a corner of the room. That sent a message to Darcy: he wasn’t welcome.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Georgiana,” he said to Elizabeth. He knew he’d already said something wrong, because Elizabeth seemed to freeze. But this was too important for him to be silent on. “Anne chided me for not giving full information about her. If you read my letter, you know about her past with Wickham.”

  “I read it.”

  “You should know how her husband’s family treated her. They tried to get her to sign away her widow’s rights before her arm was set. They behaved terribly toward her. She is grieving for her husband and wondering why his family hated her so. You should know about it if you deal with her.”

  “You expect me to deal with her?” she asked.

  Why was she so angry? “I was hoping you could. You’re so good with Kate.”

  “I’ll try,” she said.

  Darcy retreated to his bedroom to prepare for dinner. He wasn’t very hopeful of Elizabeth accomplishing anything. She hadn’t seemed to take to the idea at all. He was a bit surprised, for the one time they were together, Elizabeth and his sister seemed to get along well.

  It wasn’t until the next day that he realized Elizabeth had already planned to help Georgiana. He heard music. Surely, there were too many notes being played for one pair of hands. Georgiana couldn’t play. He followed the sounds and saw Georgiana and Elizabeth playing the pianoforte. Georgiana played only with her left hand and Elizabeth played with both hands.

  Over the next several days, Elizabeth seemed to reach Georgiana through music. Kate helped too, smiling at Georgiana. Elizabeth even managed to persuade her that she looked beautiful in black. Soon, it seemed there was a crowd of women in his life, all of whom he loved and all of whom were almost ignoring him. Georgiana lost her shyness with Elizabeth, and Kate smiled at Elizabeth and Georgiana more than she smiled at Darcy, who felt awkward with her.

  Still, he was fairly content, if a bit confused and uncertain how to proceed. He’d never needed to win a woman before, as they always threw themselves at him. Even if it was an area where he was skilled, how did one court one’s own wife, especially with a widowed younger sister and a daughter underfoot?

  Chapter 11

  Elizabeth knew she appeared happy. In fact, she was happy, for the most part. Darcy was no longer at all cold to her. She thought he may even be warming to her. She couldn’t get herself to play the seductress, however, too afraid of rejection and with visions of his care toward Anne and Lady Catherine’s accusations swimming through her head. She also discarded thoughts of confronting him. What good would it do to demand he love her and visit her bedchamber? It would be as shaming as shameful.

  Their days soon settled into an agreeable routine, further increasing Elizabeth’s reluctance toward confrontation. Things were so pleasant, she didn’t want to risk change. Everything was correct, and nice. She and Darcy spoke of books again. She and Georgiana played the piano with both hands after her arm healed. Kate grew and started grabbing everything and putting it in her mouth. Elizabeth’s life was very content, if a bit lacking. She knew many married couples rarely engaged in relations. She told herself what she and Darcy had wasn’t much different than that.

  As Kate grew, Elizabeth was pleased to unpack more of the cl
othing Anne sewed for her. She enjoyed sorting through the delicate garments, taking in the love and care Anne put into ever stitch. When Kate actually outgrew some of the clothing, Elizabeth set it aside carefully, not to be passed on, so that Kate would have this gift from her mother.

  Unlike most of her activities, Elizabeth selected new items from Anne’s carefully stowed work alone. It was a responsibility she cherished. It made her feel closer to the woman who was Kate’s true mother, who Elizabeth had the honor of calling friend. One evening, after dinner and after Georgiana went to bed and Darcy retired to the library, Elizabeth took herself off to the solace of that task, communing, in a way, with the one woman who might understand the life she was living.

  Sorting through the gowns, she removed a carefully wrapped bundle. Opening it revealed a garment oddly out of form with the others. Far from showing Anne’s usual level of refinement or the gender nonspecificity of her other work, this dress was completely embroidered in flowers. Around and around, starting with small flowers about the neckline and growing to palm sized ones about the hem.

  Elizabeth stared at it, wondering what could have possessed Anne to make such a thing. It reminded her of nothing so much as the garish furnishings Anne brought with her from Rosings, which had been kept, though they were ugly, to one day be given to Kate as some evidence of her mother’s existence. Elizabeth traced Anne’s work, still exceptional in spite of the lack of taste displayed. Around and around went overly bright lilies, irises and daffodils.

  She blinked, holding the dress out at arm’s length. Lily, iris, daffodil. Lid! It was just like the desk from Rosings! It was a message, a message only Elizabeth would understand. Anne sent her a message.

  Where had they put that desk? Somewhere on the third floor. Elizabeth set the garment aside, jumping up, certain there was meaning behind Anne’s embroidery. Systematically, she searched the third floor rooms until she found the desk. Hands shaking slightly, unsure if she was being foolish or clever, she moved the three flowers Anne had shown her. Lifting the lid of the compartment, she found a letter.